


Twist of Fate

by grace_and_lucidity, kguptill



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Halloween, Hurt Bellamy Blake, Hurt Clarke Griffin, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, POV Bellamy Blake, POV Clarke Griffin, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Protective Bellamy Blake, Protective Clarke Griffin, Rape/Non-con Elements, doctor!clarke, soldier!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 105,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_and_lucidity/pseuds/grace_and_lucidity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kguptill/pseuds/kguptill
Summary: Their paths first crossed by chance on Halloween. They both knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed Fate had other ideas.  Obstacles and events separate them, seemingly brought on by a twist of fate. But what if Fate is trying to correct a wrong? It would be a long, painful path to find each other again. Would Fate ever work in their favor?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Raven Reyes/Roan
Comments: 157
Kudos: 183





	1. With a Neon Burnin' Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve just added this beautiful moodboard, which was a prompt we did for the 100 fic for BLM initiative. You can check them out on Twitter at @t100fic_for_blm.   
> This moodboard was made by the amazing Leah @klarkgriffon on Twitter or belizaswift.carrd.co on Tumblr and we are so pleased with it. She really did an incredible job with it.

Murphy made a big gesture of opening the door to the bar and waving him in.

“C’mon, Blake. First one’s on me,” he laughed. Bellamy scowled at him as he reluctantly entered. “You need to cheer up, man,” Murphy said. “It’s Halloween. If we don’t run into at least one slutty nurse, slutty superhero, or slutty nun, I’m gonna be very, very disappointed.”

Bellamy could already tell this was a bad idea. Of all nights to be out, Halloween might be his least favorite. Maybe it was the fact that so many people were wearing masks. He had a hard enough time not feeling like he was putting on a disguise for everyone all the time. He really thought he’d had someone he could let down his guard around and...well, that had turned into a complete fucking nightmare.

The four young men jostled their way up to the bar and Murphy motioned to the bartender.

“Give me four drafts.” The bartender nodded as Murphy slipped him a twenty, then passed the beers to Miller, Wick and Bellamy. Wick and Murphy turned so they could face the room and see if there were any single women paying attention to them, Miller started chatting up the bartender, and Bellamy leaned on the bar, nursing his beer with his back to the door. Murphy rolled his eyes as a pair of incredibly sexy girls dressed like 80s pop stars paused to admire Bellamy but when he didn’t turn around, they shrugged and moved on. He nudged Bellamy roughly with his elbow.

“Man, you gotta work with me here. You’re never gonna get laid if you just play the sad bastard role all night.” Bellamy turned and frowned at him.

“Who says I want to get laid?” he asked. Murphy sighed.

“Okay, well I do. So at least help a friend out. All you have to do is stand there and smile, reel them in, and let me do the talking.” It was Bellamy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine, Murphy. But when you end up tomorrow morning with an empty wallet and a raging headache, don’t blame me,” Bellamy said. Murphy just grinned at him.

“I’ll take the empty wallet and the headache, as long as there’s a naked woman next to me when I wake up.” His eyes travelled to the door. “Speaking of which...there’s someone I’d like to see naked.”

Bellamy’s eyes followed Murphy’s to the door and stopped on what he could only describe to himself as a vision. A gorgeous blonde woman had stopped in the open doorway, her eyes darting around the small interior with hope, which quickly turned to disappointment. She was dressed in a completely over-the-top pink princess gown, layers upon layers of pink taffeta covering a low cut satin bodice that accentuated her voluptuous curves. She had on elaborate pink face paint, her hair was tinted pink, even her bare shoulders were covered in pink glitter. On her head was a rhinestone crown that glinted in the cheap neon lights of the beer signs hanging behind the bar.

“Oh my god, fantasies really do come true,” Wick said under his breath. All four men watched as the woman approached the bar. They parted to make way for her as she gestured the bartender over. She slipped a hand into her push-up bra as the men watched, mouths open, and pulled out her cash.

“I need three tequila shots,” she said, slapping her money on the bar. Bellamy and Murphy exchanged glances.

“You expecting company, Princess?” Murphy asked.

“None of your fucking business,” the young woman said, eliciting laughter from Miller and Wick.   
“Damn, crash and burn buddy,” Miller snorted as the woman took the three shot glasses and made her way to the one empty table by the window.

Bellamy watched her arrange her layers of taffeta to fit into the chair. She sat down and brought her delicate little hands up to straighten the crown she wore. He had a younger sister, so he knew by looking at her that she had clearly spent hours fixing her hair and applying her make-up and face paint. The fact that she now sat alone, in this shit hole bar of all places, trying to look like she didn’t care about any of it, made his heart hurt a little.

Murphy had become more determined to get the girl’s attention. “Hey, how did you know my favorite color is pink?” he asked. She gave him the middle finger and downed the first shot, holding her crown with one hand so it wouldn’t slide off her head. Miller and Wick were sobbing with laughter. 

  
“Murphy, give it up, man. She’s out of your league.”

Bellamy turned back to the bar. “Why don’t all of you leave her alone?” he muttered.

A cell phone started ringing loud enough for them to notice. Bellamy turned to see that she was glaring at her phone screen before silencing it and placing it back on the table.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk to him, how about talking to me?” Murphy called to her. She locked eyes with him, pointedly raised the second shot to her mouth, ran her tongue around the rim of the glass before throwing it back, then flipped him off a second time, while never breaking eye contact. Murphy threw his hands up. “Okay, I give up,” he laughed. 

Bellamy had grown increasingly agitated watching his friends harass this young woman, who clearly wanted to be left alone. He watched as she picked up her phone, scowled at it like it was her worst enemy, threw it back on the table, and downed her third shot.

“Shit,” he said under his breath. The girl was tiny, she was going to be face down on the table if she kept drinking like that. He motioned to the bartender and asked for two glasses of ice water. Picking them up, he turned and started towards her table, much to the delight of his friends.

“Blake’s gonna get some of that,” Wick hooted. “Watch and learn, Murphy.”

Bellamy walked up to the empty chair and gestured to it, still holding the waters. “Can I sit?” he asked. She looked up at him and shrugged.

“Will it shut your rude friends up?” She finally asked. He sighed.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry about that.” He put a glass of water in front of her and sat down. “You probably need to drink some water if you’re gonna keep going at this rate,” he said.

“I don’t need any advice on how to hold my alcohol,” she snapped. She took a sip of water anyway. “But, thank you.” He nodded.

“Hey Blake!” Murphy shouted, now clearly drunk. “Remember to ask her name before you fuck her! Not like the last few times.” Bellamy glared at him and he grinned back, raising his beer glass.

He turned his head back to the young woman and lowered his eyes. “So...um...do you want to tell me your name?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, her words slightly slurring. “That would imply you think you’ll be fucking me later. So, no. Hard pass.”

He chuckled softly. “Fair point. I’ll just call you Princess.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I need another drink.” She rose from the table and went back to the bar, returning with three more shots. Bellamy raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

“Oh, I forgot to get you a drink,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

He raised the beer he had been nursing since he arrived. “I’m good. Thanks.”

They both looked down at her phone as it vibrated against the table. He waited patiently for it to stop and then leaned over closer to her.

“You know, this is gonna sound like a bad pick up line, but...what are you doing in a place like this?” He gestured to her dress and crown. “You clearly had...other plans.”

“Yeah, well, my plans didn’t work out,” she said. “My dad comes in here sometimes. I thought I might find him here.”

“Your dad comes here? He’s military?”

She nodded. “Colonel.” She regarded Bellamy’s haircut, unruly curls on the top and close cut on the sides. “I’m guessing your enlisted.” 

“Corporal,” he replied.

“Well, my advice to you” she touched her finger to his nose, “is get out now. Before it ruins your life.”

Bellamy smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. My options were sort of...limited.”

He watched her down another shot and when she reached for the next one, he reached over and put his hand on top of hers.

“Hey,” he said, “slow down, alright? You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and eyed him for a minute. “Why do you care?” She saw him glance back to his friends at the bar.

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You want to impress your friends.” She huffed and drank yet another shot. “Did you bet them money you’d get to fuck me, or is it just for bragging rights?”

Bellamy frowned at her. “This may come as a surprise, Princess. But I have no intention of fucking you. I have a sister, okay? If she came into a place like this and started downing shots, I’d hope someone might step in and look after her.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly angry.

She softened a little bit. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m just...I’ve had a rough night. Sorry,” she repeated.

He sighed. “It’s okay. I’ve had those. You wanna...talk about it?” He pushed the glass of water closer to her. “After you finish this.” 

She nodded and picked up the glass. “I don’t normally dress like this,” she began.

Bellamy grinned. “I figured that.”

“Also, I don’t usually drink this much,” she hiccupped, which he found adorable.

“I figured that, too.” He paused. “So what’s different tonight? Aside from it being Halloween?”

She sighed. “My boyfriend is an asshole.” She said this like it explained everything, the dress, the pink face paint, the crown, the six shots she’d already consumed. Bellamy waited patiently for the rest of the story.

“I’m supposed to be home studying right now,” she continued. “I’m in the middle of mid-terms. I have fucking exams in two days. But no, he wants to celebrate Halloween. Of all fucking things.”

“So...where is he? If he wanted to celebrate?” Bellamy asked, fearing he might already know the answer.

“Oh, he’s at his apartment, with his dick in another woman,” she said. “At least that’s where he was the last time I saw him.”

“Uh...I...I’m sorry,” Bellamy said. “You didn’t actually...walk in on him did you?”

“Oh yeah. I walked in on him alright.” She was shaking with anger. “This whole thing,” she gestured to her dress, “was his idea.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I thought I would surprise him. He knew I wasn’t really into Halloween, but I wanted to try, you know?” Bellamy nodded sympathetically. “So I put all this stupid shit on, and I went to his apartment. I have a key, so I let myself in. And I walk in and there he is, fucking some girl he’s got bent over the back of the sofa.”

Bellamy winced. “Someone you know?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t see her face, to be honest.” She snorted. “I did see his though. He turns and looks at me and was just...well, it was pathetic. He’s standing there, still...you know...inside her, and staring at me. I walked up, punched him in the face, yelled ‘don’t ever call me again,’ and walked out.”

Bellamy tapped her phone lightly with his finger. “That’s him that keeps calling though, right?” She put her face in her hands and nodded. “Fucking asshole. I can’t believe he thinks I’ll answer.”

“Hey,” Bellamy said softly. “You’ll be okay. I promise. The same thing happened to me last year.” She looked at him, wiping the mascara from under her eyes.

“Really?”

He nodded. “My fiancé,” he said flatly.

“Fuck, that’s even worse,” she said. “What happened?”

“Her name’s Gina. We started dating in high school. We probably took it too fast, maybe. I’d lost my mom the year before, I was in a bad place. She helped me through it. It was my fault, I guess. I depended on her too much. She was young, and I dumped a lot of my problems in her lap. I don’t blame her.” He shrugged. It was his turn now to feel like shutting up and drinking.

“Earlier, you said your options were limited. What did you mean?”

He sighed. “That’s a long, boring story.” She waved her hand at him as she gulped some water.

“Tell me. I’ve got all night.”

He looked at his friends again and then scooted his chair a little closer to her. “Can I least know your name if I’m gonna start telling you my life story?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. No names.”  
“Why not?” he insisted.

She traced her finger through a small pool of water the glass had left on the table top. Without looking up at him she said, “I like this. I feel...it’s weird, but I feel safe right now. Can we just not change anything about that for now? Just talk to me.”

He smiled. For some inexplicable reason, he understood exactly how she felt. “Okay, Princess. You win. For now.” He stood up. “But I’ll need another beer for this.”

He returned a minute later and sat down. She looked over at the bar to see his friends had managed to get the attention of the 80s pop stars and were no longer interested in the two of them at all. She smiled as he sat back down, continued staring at him as he lifted the beer to his lips.

“What is it?” he asked.

She picked up her phone and pointed the camera at him.

“Smile,” she laughed. He rolled his eyes and gave her a quick smile.

“I just noticed how many freckles you have. You’re really gorgeous. You know that?” she said, her chin in her hand.

He laughed. “Um...you’re really drunk.”

She laughed with him. “Maybe. But I know gorgeous when I see it.”

Bellamy had no response to that, so he sipped his beer.

“You were going to tell me your life story,” she said.

He took a deep breath. “Short version? I was 16, I came home one night, found my mom dead of an overdose.”

He kept the details of his mom’s death to himself. How he’d come home from the library to find his sister, Octavia, screaming from their mother’s bedroom. He’d run in to find his mother dead, the needle still stuck in her arm.

She put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god! I can’t even imagine that."

He sighed heavily and looked into her blue eyes, thinking how much they calmed him. He wanted to stay here, at this table, across from this beautiful girl with no name. To never go back to the small house he still lived in, the same house his mother died in. He rubbed his hands together nervously and cleared his throat.

“My uh...my sister was 12, so I sort of took over raising her.”

_That night came back to him with utter clarity. How he led Octavia gently to her room and told her to stay there. Panicked and pacing, he’d wrapped his mother’s body in the bedsheet and picked her up. Even fully clothed, she weighed next to nothing in his arms, the drugs having wasted her body away over the years. He’d carried her out to his car and laid her gently in the back seat, not yet knowing where he would take her, only that he couldn’t call the police. He couldn’t have people in his house, seeing how they lived, deciding he and Octavia should end up in foster care. He’d driven for an hour before he’d realized he was taking her to the lake, the only place she’d ever brought them that made them all happy. The tears in his eyes were blurring the oncoming headlights but he wiped them away angrily and kept driving, past the boat dock, and onto a little-used dirt road. He parked the car and got out, standing perfectly still as he listened for any other movement in the woods leading to the lake edge. Satisfied he was alone, he lifted his mother’s body from the back seat, leaving the sheet behind, and carried her along a nearly invisible path to edge of the water. He laid her down gently, brushed the hair out of her face, slipped her shoes on to her feet, and checked her pockets to make sure there was nothing left behind to identify her. Then he sat down next to her and looked up at the sky, asking for some small sign that he was doing the right thing. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he sobbed. “I don’t know what else to do.” He sat there for another half hour, until the night breeze was chilling him through his clothes. Standing, he looked at her for another minute, then turned, walked back to his car, and drove home. Octavia had been asleep on the sofa, a box of cereal on her chest. He picked it up and shook her gently awake. “You need to go get in your bed,” he whispered. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Do you think they’re gonna take us away? When they find out mom died?” she’d asked him. He shook his head. “Never. Okay? I promise.” She began to cry and he sat next to her and rocked her back to sleep, covering her with a blanket._

She watched him as he drank a long swallow of beer and stared down at the table. He was clearly not used to telling anyone much about himself, or of having anyone care to ask.

He finally brought his eyes up to meet hers and smiled at her.

“It’s fine. You know, I managed...we managed.”

He couldn’t bring himself to even put into words how the months following his mother’s death had been a hellish blur. How he had checked the news every day to see if his mother’s body had been found. It was weeks before that happened. By then, identification was impossible. Police asked for any information about a missing woman. He’d kept silent through it all.

“But, how did you get by?” She was clearly stunned. “What did you do for money? I...I’m sorry,” she said. She wasn’t sure what she was even apologizing for. For coming from a much more garden variety childhood? For the shitty hand he’d been dealt? For insisting he tell her his life story to begin with?

He looked away again. “I...um, I got a job. We owned the house already, so it wasn’t that hard to make ends meet. I graduated high school and joined the army.” He shrugged.

The job he’d been able to get at a grocery store near their house barely covered the bills. Thankfully, the shitty little cracker box they lived in was already paid for, but he had to put food on the table and keep the lights on. He’d worked hard, showed up early, stayed late, done whatever was asked of him _._ When the manager found him stocking shelves one night and told him to come into her office to see if everything was okay, he had seen her as a sympathetic adult. She had asked him if he needed extra money. He’d been honest with her, told her it would be great if he could have a raise. She’d smiled and told him she’d been thinking about something more ‘under the table.’ Still clueless, he’d asked what she meant. What had happened after that still caused him to burn with shame.

_“I find you really attractive,” she whispered._

_He finally caught on. “Aren’t you married?” he stammered._

_“That’s my concern, not yours,” she said. “Either you want some extra money, or you don’t.”_

_“What do I have to do?” he asked quietly._

_“Just sit down,” she replied, smiling. “I’ll do the rest.”_

_He sat down, looking away as she parted his knees wide enough to kneel between them. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he felt her unzip his pants, pull his cock out, and bring her mouth down on him. She sucked him until he was hard, then stood up and pulled her skirt up to straddle him. He remained silent while she lowered herself onto him, remained perfectly still as she began riding him with her hands on his shoulders. He kept his own hands slack at his sides, not wanting to touch her, not wanting to acknowledge what she was doing to him. Even as he came, he felt nothing. As soon as she rose off of him, he zipped his fly and stood up, running his hands through his hair and swallowing back his self-loathing. He even managed to croak out a ‘thank you,’ when she pulled fifty dollars from her wallet and handed it to him. He made it to his car before breaking down in tears, his head on the steering wheel. And he made it halfway home before he had to pull over and vomit in the ditch. But the following Friday, she scheduled him to work late again. And every week after. He stopped thinking of it as wrong. It was just one more thing he had to do. He started dating Gina a few months later so he told his manager he had to stop working late. She fired him. He graduated high school a few weeks later, and as all the other students were celebrating with their family and friends and discussing their plans for the future, Bellamy Blake was walking into the army recruitment office, looking for a way out._

“Hey,” she said, bringing him back to the present. “It sounds like you really took good care of your sister. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks,” he said.

“And Gina?” she asked.

“Once I joined the army, I relied on her a lot. My first deployment, she stayed with my sister and made sure she got to school and all that. She was great about it. I proposed to her as soon as I got home from that one. It seemed right, you know?” He took another swig of beer. “We started planning the wedding and then I had to leave again. She was only 20. I shouldn’t have expected her to really want to just become a wife and basically a mother to my sister. I came home from that deployment, got home a little earlier than I expected, and walked in on her in bed with another guy. I beat the fuck out of him.” He stopped talking. She waited. “I was an asshole about the whole thing.”  
  
“What? Why? You weren’t an asshole. She was cheating on you!”  
He shook his head. “Yeah, but she told me it was just too much for her. The responsibility of taking care of a kid, planning a wedding, me being gone all the time. She said she wanted to live a little. So, being the dick I am, I told her to go live a little somewhere else. She handed me back the ring, and that was that. I kind of went off the rails for a while. But I had a CO that sort of took me under his wing, helped straighten me out.”

She nodded. “Military dads...they’re good at that.” It made him laugh, finally.

“So, have you started dating again? After Gina?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “Nothing serious.”

“One night stands, then,” she joked.

He gave her a funny look. “I’m open to having a relationship. I mean, there’ve been a couple of girls I was interested in getting serious with. But...” he paused.

“But what?” she pressed.

“There’s this place I go. A little lake outside of town. It’s someplace my mom took us when we were kids. It’s peaceful there...” he seemed unsure of whether to continue. “Whenever I’ve taken a date there, it’s been the last date. They don’t see the appeal I guess. Or they think I’m weird for bringing them there instead of a club. Who knows.” He drained his glass.

“I think it sounds like a great date,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” he smiled at her. “A nature lover, huh?”

She nodded. “Maybe you can take me there sometime. On our first date.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Deal.”

“What about your sister? Where is she now?”

He smiled, his eyes full of pride. “She’s a freshman in college. A small school a couple of hours from here. She got a full scholarship.”

“You never wanted to go to college?” she asked.

“Like I said. I didn’t have a lot of options. But yeah, I did think about college at one time. I wanted to be a teacher, maybe.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Hell, if I stay active duty, I’ll be able to retire when I’m 38, so...you know, maybe I’ll go to college then. I always thought I’d work with kids. You know, teenagers from broken homes, the kids most people ignore”

She reached across the table, surprising him by taking his hand in both of hers. Her hands were so small, he noticed, with a little twist in his heart. Why the hell was he telling this woman so much about himself? She wouldn’t even tell him her name.

“I bet you’d be really good with kids,” she said. He looked into her blue eyes and felt a moment of panic, like his world was spinning out of control. Like he was about to completely bear his soul to this woman. He stood up from the table. “I need another beer,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned to the table, determined to move the conversation away from himself. “What are you studying?” he asked, sipping his beer.

“I’m in med school,” she replied. “First year.”

“Wow! That’s impressive. You look young to be in med school.”  
She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, well never underestimate the ability of a woman desperate to prove something to her overbearing mother. It’s an incredible motivator.”

He laughed. “That sounds like a story for another time.”

“It’s not that exciting,” she said. “A typical broken home. My dad’s great, my mom wants to control my life. It’s weird...”  
  
“What?”

“Well, my dad has always told me how proud he is of me. But it’s my mom I’m always seeking approval from. I wanted to be an artist.”  
“Oh yeah?” he smiled.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “But here I am in med school, because mom’s a doctor.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge.”

He threw up his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging. I never once envisioned this, myself as career military and here I am. Life doesn’t always work with you I guess. Sometimes fate has other plans.” 

He noticed her eyes looked sleepy. “It’s late. I think it’s time you get home, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I guess so.”

He stood up and held out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll call you an Uber.”

She stood up and wobbled slightly. “Oh! Wow,” she giggled and his heart melted a little bit more. “I’m a little tipsy.” He put his arm around her waist to steady her.

“Here, I’ll walk you out. Don’t forget your phone.” She picked up her phone and stared at it, laughing. “Twelve missed calls!” She put the phone up close to her mouth. “I’m never calling you back, asshole,” she said. He laughed with her, guiding her to the door.

“Are you taking me to your house?” she asked.  
“Uh, no. We already established that I’m not fucking you, remember?” he said.

“Welllll, what if I changed my mind?” she said provocatively.

“I haven’t changed mine,” he said firmly.

“You’re mean,” she pouted.

“You’re drunk,” he responded. “Do you want me to call you an Uber or not?”

She waved him off. “I’ll text my best friend. He’ll take me home.”

“I’ll wait with you,” he said. He slipped his jacket off and put it around her bare shoulders. She looked up at him and wobbled on her high heels.

“Careful!” he laughed, grabbing her around the waist. Before he knew what happened, she had brought her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. He only hesitated for a second before he drew her closer to him, bringing his hand behind her head and kissing her hungrily. She tasted like tequila and lip gloss, but mostly like home, something he’d been longing for and finally found. The heat of her skin was sending a wave of arousal to his groin. He brought his other hand flat against the small of her back and pulled her as close to his body as he could. She moaned softly into his mouth. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and looked down at her, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That was, um,”

“Shhhh,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again, this time with even more passion. His need to possess her overpowered him. He held her face with both his hands and thrust his tongue between her parted lips, willing her to submit to him, to let him explore her mouth. He was dizzy with lust, and when she ran her hand down to his erection, it was his turn to moan. He could feel her smile against his lips. They pulled apart a second time.

“Wow,” they said at the same time, laughing.

“Sure you don’t want to take me home and fuck me?” She asked, reaching up to wipe away some pink face paint from his cheek.

“You have no idea how much I want that, Princess,” he replied. She put her hand between his legs again.

“I think I have some idea,” she teased. He grabbed her wrist and when she attempted to put her other hand on his crotch he grabbed that wrist as well. Holding both her hands behind her back, he gave her a smile.

“Someone needs to keep their hands to themselves,” he said. He pulled her close to him suddenly, making her gasp. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to have any regrets. But if you come back tomorrow night, and you still want me to take you home,” he bent in to whisper in her ear, “then I will fuck you longer and harder than anyone ever has.” He released her hands and she took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she gasped. “You have a deal.” She reached up and removed the crown from her head and placed it on his. “You really are a prince, you know that?”

He shook his head. “I’m really not,” he said.

“Hand me your phone,” she said. When he did, she turned the camera on and snapped a selfie of the two of them. She turned the phone to show him. “We look good together.”

“We do,” he agreed. “If only I knew your name, I could...”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Meet me here tomorrow. At 8:00.”

“Okay. Eight it is,” he said. A car was pulling up to the curb. He turned to see who was picking her up. It was a black BMW with a personalized plate that said “JAHA.”

“You have rich friends,” he said. She laughed.

“I only hang out with the best people. Mom wouldn’t have it any other way.” She paused. “Seriously, though, Wells is a good guy. You’ll like him.”

He smiled at that. “So I get to meet your friends? This is getting serious.”

“Tomorrow,” she said. She started to slip out of his jacket.

“Keep it,” he said. “I want to take it off you tomorrow night.”

She tilted her head up to give him a soft kiss. “I can’t wait.”

He watched her get in the car, waved to the faceless tinted windows. He looked in the bar and saw his friends still chatting up the 80s pop stars, so he sent Murphy a text that he was headed home. He looked at the picture again. _We **do** look good together_, he thought to himself. He turned and walked away, still wearing the crown from his nameless princess.

Clarke twisted around in the seat so she could watch him until they turned the corner.

“So, who was that?” Wells asked her.

She gave him a big smile. “My future.”


	2. He Didn't See Her Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke have a first date planned, but once again, fate intervenes, setting both their lives on very different courses.

*********************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy checked his phone. He was fifteen minutes early, so he ordered a beer and took the same table he had the night before. He could see out the window and wanted to see her the minute she arrived. He’d taken more care with his appearance tonight than he had last night, shaving and putting on a flannel over his white t-shirt, even slapping on a touch of cologne. He’d also rushed through his small house trying to straighten it up in the expectation that he might be bringing her home with him. He normally kept his house pretty clean, but he made sure to put the seat down on the toilet, put nice towels on the rack, put the clean dishes in the cupboard. Now, here he sat, running his hands through his hair, nervously checking his phone again. Five minutes had passed.

_Chill out, Blake_ , he thought to himself. _She probably won’t even remember making this date. She was pretty drunk. Surely, she wouldn’t forget, would she? Not after that kiss._

He was still busy second guessing himself when a man in his late 40s, in a wheelchair, rolled up to the entrance of the bar. Bellamy recognized him and leaped from his seat to hold the door for him.

“Sir! It’s good to see you,” he said.

Jake Griffin held out his hand and shook Bellamy’s. “Bellamy! How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Bellamy smiled. “I’ve been pretty good. I’ve got a deployment in two more weeks. But I’ve been enjoying some downtime, getting some repairs done on the house.”

Jake nodded. “Mind if I join you?” he gestured to the table where Bellamy had been sitting.  
“Oh, uh...no. That’s fine,” Bellamy said, pulling a chair out of the way to make room for the wheelchair.

The bartender brought a beer to the table and Jake handed him his cash. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, play me some Dylan, will you.” The bartender nodded.

“You bet,” he said. In a few minutes “A Simple Twist of Fate” started playing.

Jake gave Bellamy a funny look. “Are you expecting someone?”

Bellamy dipped his head. “Yeah, actually. I’m meeting someone...maybe. We’ll see,” he checked his phone again. It was 8:00. “She should be here any minute.”

  
Jake laughed. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair as soon as she shows up.”

“It’s fine, really,” Bellamy said, but Jake waved him off.

“No. You don’t need an old man getting in the way of romance,” he said. “What’s the lucky lady’s name?”

Bellamy opened his mouth and closed it, frowning. “I...I don’t actually know.”

Jake snorted into his beer. “You don’t know her name? Sounds serious.”

That made Bellamy laugh. “It does sound pretty ridiculous,” he admitted. “I met her last night, but I never caught her name. So we agreed to meet here tonight and...hopefully, that’s gonna happen.” He checked his phone again.

They chatted about Bellamy’s home improvement projects and Jake’s new hobbies of fishing and remote control planes. Jake asked about Octavia and Bellamy caught him up on her first year of college.

“She’s met someone,” he said, frowning. “His name is Lincoln. He plays football.”

Jake grinned. “Sounds like you hate him already.”

“Well, I’ll feel better about it when I get to meet him. She sounds happy. I guess that’s what matters.”

“It’s hard to let go,” Jake said. “I know how protective you are of her. You two have been through a lot. But she’s got a good head on her shoulders. And that’s because of you.” Bellamy nodded.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. He leaned back in his chair. “You know, I told my date about you already.”

“Jesus,” Jake said. “What the hell for?”

Bellamy grinned. “I told her how much you helped me out, when you were my CO. And I mean it. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Jake looked around the small, dark bar and back at Bellamy. “You wouldn’t be sitting in a shit hole bar waiting on a nameless girl if it weren’t for me? I’m not sure you should be thanking me for that.”

That made Bellamy laugh out loud. Then he turned serious. “No, I mean I’d probably be dead. Or worse. So thank you.”

Jake turned serious, too. “You’re a good man, Bellamy. One of the best I know.”

Jake’s cell phone started ringing and he looked at the screen. “Sorry, I should take this,” he said. Bellamy gestured it was fine and checked his own phone again. It was 8:30. _Dammit, she’s not coming,_ he thought.

He watched Jake’s face grow concerned, his brow furrowed. “Okay, I’m on my way,” he said into the phone. He pushed himself away from the table, clearly in a hurry.

“I have to go. I have a family emergency,” he said. Bellamy jumped up and held the door for him.

  
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

Jake was already part of the way down the sidewalk. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks!” and he was gone around the corner. Bellamy stood and looked up and down the sidewalk in both directions. There were several people out, mostly couples. He saw two girls approaching, one of whom was blond and he waited for them to get closer. He guessed it was possible she would bring a friend with her to be safe. They slowed down and looked at him as they walked by.

“Hey gorgeous,” one of them said. It was clear neither of them was her, so he ignored them and walked back inside. He ordered a second beer and drank it more quickly. It was 9:00 before he admitted to himself that she really wasn’t coming.

He left the bar, shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. It was cold out, but he felt like a long walk might help him clear his head so he turned right instead of left and headed into the middle of town instead of home. _What the fuck was he thinking letting that girl leave without telling him her name?_ _The way she’d kissed him. He hadn’t imagined it was special, had he?_ He pulled his phone out again and pulled up the photo she had taken of the two of them. He stared at it for a long time as he stood and waited for the light to change. _I wasn’t wrong_ , he told himself. _I didn’t imagine it. She’s special_. Fuck. How would he ever find her? Search student directories for every medical school in the tri-county area? Try to find a divorced couple, the wife of which was a surgeon at a hospital?

“God dammit,” he said out loud. The light changed and he crossed the street. He was headed straight but caught a glimpse of flashing blue lights out of the corner of his eye. A block to the right, there were several police vehicles and flares on the road. Out of curiosity more than anything else, he turned and headed in that direction. As he approached, he could see there had been a two car accident. A serious one. One of the cars, a black BMW, was upside down and the other was completely crushed in the front. His eyes roamed over the scene and stopped on the license plate of the upside down car. JAHA.

“No,” he muttered to himself walking faster towards the crash. “No!” he approached the cars, circling them, his eyes searching for the driver, the passenger. There were still a few people milling around, but most of them had dispersed as the tow trucks were arriving. Bellamy was beginning to panic, and then his eyes landed on the ground near the passenger door of the car. His jacket was laying there, covered in blood. He dropped to the ground, grabbed the jacket and started shaking.

“Sir!” a cop yelled to him. “You can’t be there! You need to clear the area. The truck is coming in here.” Bellamy stood slowly and backed away from the car, still holding his jacket. He turned to the cop.

“Can you tell me what hospital they took the victims to...please?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Mercy Hospital,” the cop said in a businesslike voice. “Now please clear the area, sir.”

Bellamy turned and ran, his breath hitching in his lungs. He knew exactly where Mercy was. His mom had been admitted there before, after one of her close calls with death by pain medication. It took him twenty minutes to get there and he was winded and sweaty when he burst in the emergency room. He grabbed the sides of the triage desk and panted at the nurse.

“A car accident, the victims were brought here a little while ago.”

She regarded him with concern. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “I need to know about the car crash. The girl. I need to know if she’s okay!”

The nurse tapped on her computer. “I need a name, hon.” He stayed silent for so long, she glanced away from her computer and back at him. “A name? Of the girl? And your relationship to her.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know her fucking name!!” he screamed. Other people in the waiting room turned and stared at him. The nurse came from around her desk and took him by the arm, leading him into a corridor off the main waiting room.

“I can see you’re upset,” she said calmly. “But those people out there don’t need any more trauma right now, okay?” He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t know her name. I was supposed to see her tonight, she didn’t show up...I...,” he stopped talking and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He opened the picture of the two of them and handed it to the nurse.

“This is her,” he said. “I know her, I swear. I just didn’t get her name. Please, please help me.” He was fighting back tears and the nurse bit her lower lip as she regarded the photo. She handed him back the phone.

“I’ll go see what I can find out,” she said softly. “You wait here.”

She was gone for several minutes and when she returned, she had an expression on her face that Bellamy immediately recognized all too well. She was coming with bad news. He was already shaking his head as she approached. His gut was twisted in knots.

She took one of his hands gently and said, “I’m sorry, I’ve been informed that there were no survivors, son.” He closed his eyes, fighting back the desire to just fall apart right in front of this stranger. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled his hand away and thanked her for helping him, then slid down to sit on the floor, still clutching the jacket to his chest. Some of the blood on the jacket had smeared across his hands. Her blood. He put his head on his knees, felt the nurse pat his shoulder and ask if he needed anything. He shook his head and she walked back down the corridor. It was several minutes before he could will himself to stand and leave the hospital. He was looking at the ground as he walked through the sliding glass doors and didn’t see the slender brunette woman coming in who was likewise staring down at her phone. They bumped into one another.  
  


“Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered as he kept moving. She waved him off and continued her brisk entrance, scanning the waiting room for her ex-husband. She tucked her phone into her handbag as Jake came rolling down the corridor in his wheelchair, a look of exasperation on his face.

  
“Where the hell have you been?” he barked as soon as she was within ear shot.

“I was in surgery. I came as soon as I could, Jake,” Abby replied.

“You were in surgery? You realized our daughter was also in surgery, right? What the fuck is wrong with you, Abby?” He was outraged.

“Jake,” she hissed. “I’m a neuro surgeon. When I have my hands inside someone’s skull, it’s not as though I can just hand that job over to someone else. The patient could have died. I told you, I came as soon as I could.” She sat down in one of the plastic waiting room chairs and threw her purse into the seat beside her. “Now please, catch me up on Clarke.”

Jake rolled himself closer to her and sighed. “She was incredibly lucky. Wearing a seatbelt saved her life. She had some serious lacerations, a punctured lung, and head trauma.” Abby was in doctor mode, nodding and taking mental notes.

“So they drained her lung, stitched her up,” she said. “And the head injury?”

“It was bad, Abby. She flatlined during surgery, but they were able to revive her.” At this point, Jake’s hands started shaking. He put his fist to his mouth. “We almost lost her. Almost lost my little girl.”

Abby, in an uncharacteristic act of compassion, put her hand on top of his. “But they revived her, Jake. She’s a fighter. We both know that.” He nodded. “What’s her status now?”

“She’s in a coma currently,” Jake said quietly. “Stabilized. They don’t know how long she’ll be in a coma. That’s all I know.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Abby finally broke the silence.

“She’ll need long term care, once she wakes up,” she began. “I propose she move back in with me. I’ll have someone go clear out her apartment.” Jake was already shaking his head. “What’s wrong with that, Jake?”

“I think she should stay with me,” he insisted. “I have room at my place. It’s closer to her school. If she’s able to start back up next semester. It makes more sense for her to be there.”

Abby scowled at him. “You think you’ll be able to care for her? I’m a doctor and you’re a...”

“A what, Abby? A cripple? I can take care of my goddamn child!”

She sighed. “You weren’t able to take care of your family when you weren’t in a wheelchair. I don’t see any reason to think anything has changed. I’m only thinking about what’s best for Clarke. If she lives with you, she’ll feel obligated to try and help you out because...” He waved her off angrily.

“Typical,” he spat. “It’s never been about doing what’s best for Clarke. It’s about getting what you want. You know she doesn’t even want to be in med school, right? That’s for you, too. And that fucking asshole boyfriend of hers? You think she picked him because he’s what she wants? That was Abby-approved too, wasn’t it? He comes from a good family and all that shit.” He rolled a short distance and then turned around. “You know, I should have introduced her to Bellamy when I first thought of it.”

“Bellamy Blake?” she snorted. “Your little project?”  
He glared at her. “Bellamy is an incredible young man. He’s overcome more than you or I have ever had to.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged. “But my money is on him becoming a junkie just like his mother. And even if he doesn’t, my daughter is never going to involve herself with a career military man. Ever.”

“You don’t want her making the same mistake you did, is that it?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Jake. That’s exactly it.”

“Fine, Abby,” he sighed. “Clarke stays with you. You win, again.” He guided his wheelchair down the corridor. “Ask a nurse if you can check in on your daughter,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m waiting in a different area.”

*****************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy lay awake until the sun was nearly up. He hadn’t yet changed out of the clothes he’d gone to the bar in, hadn’t yet washed the blood from his hands. For those long hours, he had alternated between staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut and seeing nothing but her face. It wasn’t real to him that she had been alive just the night before, that he had been kissing her twenty-four hours ago. Her death had invaded every cell of his being, had infected him with crippling grief. Reasonably, he knew it shouldn’t feel the same as it did when he lost his mother. But it was every bit as painful. Even more so. Because in her, he had felt a future. He hadn’t imagined it. There _really_ was something special between them. That girl, the one without a name, was meant to be his. This thought led him to punishing himself further for not just taking her home with him.

_You didn’t have to fuck her if you were so concerned about being a gentleman. You could have just let her stay, held her, learned more about her. That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Bellamy Blake._ _She would still be alive if you had just made the right decision._

*********************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy spent the next two weeks before his deployment packing and trying to complete his house projects. Staying busy kept him from dwelling on his grief. He drove to Octavia’s school to spend the weekend with her and finally meet Lincoln, who he actually liked. They met in a restaurant and within half an hour, Bellamy and Lincoln were trading jokes, laughing, and acting like they’d known each other for years. Octavia was beaming. She walked Bellamy out to his truck when it was time for him to drive home.

“You okay, big brother?” she asked. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

He shrugged. “I’m just...you know how I get before I have to deploy.” She nodded. She knew there was something else, but also knew he wouldn’t tell her unless he was ready. She took his hand.

“What do you think of Lincoln?” she asked.

“I like him, O. And I’m happy for you. I’m glad you have someone,” he looked as though he were about to say something else, then stopped. “It makes it easier for me to leave.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he hugged her tight. “I love you, sis.”

“I know. I love you too, Bell.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “This is a long one.”

“Twelve months,” he said.

“Keep your eyes sharp. Don’t die on me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he smiled. She kissed his cheek and walked back into the restaurant to join Lincoln.

The morning he was scheduled to deploy, he got a text from Jake. He smiled to himself. Jake had never once missed his deployment date. Had always sent him good luck wishes and a safe return. He read over the message and sent back a quick text.

“Thanks, sir. Hope the family emergency turned out okay.” Jake had never actually been open about his home life so he didn't want to pry. Bellamy only knew he was divorced and had a daughter. Other than that, the man had always kept his personal life to himself.

Jake replied, “Yes, all is good. How’d the date go?”

Bellamy frowned for a minute before responding “It didn’t work out. Such is life”

He pocketed his phone, hiked his duffle bag on to his shoulder, locked the door behind him and stepped into the waiting cab.

*********************************************************************************************************************

Jake was reading the last message from Bellamy as the nurse approached. “Mr. Griffin? You can visit your daughter now,” she said, smiling. “She asked about you as soon as she woke up.”

He put his phone away and rolled behind her down the corridor. His first glimpse of Clarke propped slightly upright in her bed with her eyes open brought him to tears. She gave him a weak smile.

“Hi, daddy,” she said. He rolled up close to the bedside and took her hand.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said through his tears. “I’ve missed you.” Then he openly wept with relief, finally getting himself together to wipe his eyes and smile back at her.

“The nurse said I’ve been in a coma for two weeks,” she said, her voice still hoarse. “It doesn’t seem like that. I...” she shut her eyes. “I feel like I just woke up from a long nap.”

The nurse squeezed Jake lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she said, turning to leave.

Jake nodded at Clarke. “It’s been two weeks, alright. It felt like a lot longer to me. And your mom.”

“Where is mom?” Clarke asked.

“On her way,” Jake replied.

A look of concern crossed Clarke’s face suddenly. “Dad? What about Wells? How is he?”

Jake took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. “Clarke. Honey. I’m so sorry. Wells didn’t survive the crash.”

She was silent for so long he wondered if she’d heard him. She opened her mouth twice before any sound came out.

“No. That’s not possible,” her voice trembled. “He was right next to me. He was right next to me, and I’m fine! Dad?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. He was dead when they got to the scene.”  
“And the other driver? The car that ran into us?” she asked.

Jake swallowed hard. “Also dead. A young woman who was very drunk and should never have been behind the wheel.”

Clarke began to cry. Slowly at first, and then great heaving sobs. “Wells can’t be gone! He was my best friend,” she wailed. Her breath was hitching. “He was driving me that night. He would have been home if I hadn’t asked for a ride.”

Jake looked her in the eye. “Clarke, you are not going to blame yourself for this. Wells was killed by a drunk driver. It had nothing to do with you.”

She was shaking her head. “I can’t even remember why he was driving me. Where was I going?”

A look of concern passed over Jake’s face. “I don’t know, honey. It’s not important right now.”

The door opened and they both looked to see Abby enter the room. She gave Clarke a broad smile, rushed over and leaned in to hug her tightly. “Clarke, I’m so glad you’re awake. Oh, sweetheart, we’ve been so worried.” She swiped at the tears in her eyes and Clarke tried to smile at her.

“Dad just told me about Wells,” she whispered, then started crying again.

Abby gave Jake a sharp look. “Did he?” she said. “Well that probably could have waited.”

“She asked, Abby,” he said angrily.

She pulled up a chair on the other side of Clarke’s bed.

“Honey, your dad and I talked about the best course of action to help you fully recover. We agree that you should move in with me for a little while, just until you’re back on your feet.” She stroked Clarke’s head.

“Talk about something that could have waited,” Jake muttered.

Clarke leaned her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. “So, nothing has changed between you two, I see.”

“We just want to know that both of us are going to do whatever it takes to get you healed and get your life back to normal, Clarke. We both love you,” she said, glancing at Jake.

“We do. But you knew that,” he said.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “I do. Thanks. But I think I need to rest right now. And just...be alone for a little while,” she whispered. “Okay?”

Abby stood up. “Of course, honey. I’ll be close by if you need anything. I’ll speak with your doctors and see what their course of treatment is.” She walked to the doorway and paused. “I’m sorry about Wells. Truly. I know how much he meant to you.” She left the room and Jake waited until the clicking of her heels disappeared down the corridor.

“Hey, kiddo. I really wanted you to stay with me,” he began.

“It’s okay, dad. I know that’s probably what you wanted. And I know mom is impossible to say no to.”

He gave a small chuckle. “You’re right about that.”

She gave a big sigh. “It’ll be fine. Hopefully it won’t last too long. I need to get back to school.”  
“Don’t worry about any of that. Just worry about getting better. Okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes again. “I’m gonna get some sleep,” she said. She was already out before he even left the room.

******************************************************************************************************************

Over the next few days, Clarke’s room filled with flowers and visitors. Family members, classmates, friends were all overjoyed that she was awake and improving. And physically, she was. She was taking short walks with the nurse or one of her parents every day, her appetite was healthy, she was able to shower alone. It looked as though she would be released in the next few days. Mentally, though, she was struggling. Her memory lapse was frustrating her, even though the doctors weren’t concerned and assured her it was normal and would most likely resolve itself. But the biggest obstacle for her was her grief over losing Wells.

Roan, one of her med school friends came for a visit a couple of days after she had woken up. He walked in with a big bag of gummi bears and some fuzzy socks, which made her smile. She could always count on Roan to put a smile on her face.

“Hey Clarke,” he boomed. Roan never did anything in a small way. She knew he’d probably caught the attention of every nurse in the wing on his way to see her. At six feet, with the body of a gym rat, he caught a lot of attention wherever he went. He came from a big family, had gone on mission trips with his parents, and learned how great the need was for women’s health care, so he’d made the decision to go to med school to become an ob/gyn. Clarke teased him that he was just in it to meet women, but in her heart, she knew he would be great at it. Underneath his big ego, he was incredibly compassionate and sensitive. He just happened to look like a god.

He sat down next to her and got right to the point. “I heard about Wells,” he said. “And I’m sorry, Clarke. I really am.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

They talked for a long time. Roan caught her up on all that was happening at school. He told her how so many of their classmates told him to give her their well wishes. He made her laugh for the first time since she’d woken up. By the time he left, she felt almost normal again.

Within a week, Clarke was deemed healthy enough to leave the hospital. She rode with her mother in silence on the way to her house. Abby had already hired movers to clear out her apartment, even though she had told Clarke the stay would be temporary. Clarke had protested, but given in. She entered the house she’d grown up in with a mixture of sadness and relief. Her room looked pretty much the way she’d left it, and Abby was working long hours as usual, so Clarke mostly had the house to herself. Sometimes she wondered what the purpose of staying with her mom was, when she was gone so much of the time. She could have stayed with her dad and had more company.

She was laying on the couch watching a movie one afternoon when the doorbell rang. She rose slowly and walked to the door, peering through the eyehole. Her whole body tensed in anger and she considered not opening the door. He hadn’t even been to see her or texted her the entire she was in the hospital and now here he was at her door! But, she decided ‘what the hell.’ She flung the door open, surprising Finn on the other side, who was holding a huge bouquet of flowers. He grinned at her.

“Hi, Clarke,” he said, handing her the flowers. She took them and continued to stare at him in silence.

“Are you...ah...gonna let me in?” he asked. She opened the door and gestured inside, still saying nothing.

He walked in and tried to embrace her. “You look great! Really, really great,” he said. She snorted. She was wearing yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and a messy bun. She hadn’t showered in two days.  
  
“Okay. If you say so.” she turned and walked back in to the living room. He followed and sat down on the sofa opposite from her. She could tell he was nervous, but really had no intention of helping him out.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come see you in the hospital,” he began. She held up her hand.

“Not only did you not come see me after my near fatal accident, Finn. But I’ve been home for days,” she said, glaring at him.

“Babe,” he said, making her roll her eyes. “It took me forever to find out you were here. I went to your apartment, it was empty. I went to your school, no one would tell me where you went.”

She sighed. “I’m not that hard to find. I do have a phone.” She suddenly realized she hadn’t actually seen her phone since her accident.

He threw up his hands. “Don’t you think I tried to call you? Clarke, I’ve been trying to call you and text you like 50 times a day. You didn’t answer. I called you twelve times Halloween night.”

She frowned at him. “My accident was the night after Halloween,” she shook her head. Something didn’t feel right. She really felt like she was forgetting something important.

He gave her a strange look. “I know. I called you on Halloween because I wanted to try to explain. You know, what you walked in on.”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know...what did I...” and then it clicked in her memory. Dressing up for Halloween in a princess dress, walking in on Finn fucking that girl.

She stood up and looked to the ceiling for a long minute. Finn sat silently, wondering what the hell was going on.

“You. Fucking. Asshole.” She spat at him. “I remember now.”  
“Clarke, please. You didn’t let me explain that night. And I came here today to explain to you. I love you so much, babe. Please. I just want a chance to make it up to you.”

She was laughing now. “You love me? How fucking dare you! You love me, now that you know I survived and I won’t be some vegetable that you’d have to take care of the rest of your life. That I might still be able to fuck you. Is that it?”

“No! That’s not it at all,” he yelled, now standing as well. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t WANT to understand,” she screamed. “I want you to go. Now.”

“Clarke,” he started.

“NOW!” she yelled, walking to the door and opening it. He stood and stared at her for a minute.

“I can’t believe you. You’re willing to give up on us, just like that?”

“Finn, you already gave up on us. I’m just finalizing the deal,” she said flatly. “Goodbye.”

She slammed the door behind him and went up to her room and threw herself on her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of the image of Finn and that girl. And her in that ridiculous pink dress and crown...and then her memory clicked again. She was at a table, in a bar, sitting with one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever laid eyes on. He was making her drink water. His dark eyes were kind and concerned about her.

She remembered talking to him, telling him more than she should have about herself. And she remembered he was in the army, his mom died of an overdose. The whole conversation was flooding into her brain and she almost started crying with happiness.

“It was him. I was meeting him that night,” she said to the empty room. _OMG, we never told each other our names. He couldn’t reach me. But, I took his picture._ She sat up on her bed, suddenly desperate to find her phone. She started rummaging through her drawers, her bookshelf. Her mom had helped her unpack most of her essentials, but she had boxes of stuff she wasn’t going to unpack because it would be admitting she was going to stay a long time. But she began opening boxes, throwing everything on the floor, one box after another. It wasn’t in any of them. She went into her bathroom and yanked the small bag she’d brought home from the hospital out. She shoved her hand into it and rummaged around, her fingers finally closing on the flat, smooth phone.

“Yes!” she cried, pulling it out. The battery was dead and she ran back downstairs, plugging it into the charger. Impatiently, she punched in her passcode, tapped the photos open, tapped on the last one she had taken. And there he was, smiling at her. Unruly curls on top of a close military cut, beautiful brown eyes, freckles, a face she longed to draw. “Hey, gorgeous,” she whispered at the phone.

She startled as Abby came in the front door. “Clarke?” she called.

“Yeah mom, in here,” she called back. Abby walked in to find her daughter staring at her cell phone.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Mom! I remember now! I remember where I was going the night of the accident,” Clarke was beaming. “I had a date. I met this guy the night before.”  
Abby held her hand up. “Wait, you had a date? Clarke, you were dating Finn. You mean you had a date with Finn?” she asked, clearly confused.

Clarke shook her head. “No. Finn and I split up.” She turned the phone to her mom. “I was meeting him that night.”

Abby stared at the phone for a minute, trying to mask her surprise at seeing the face of Bellamy Blake staring back at her. “You...were meeting...this young man?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Clarke said. “He’s incredible. But I don’t know his name. I’m pretty sure his buddies called him Blake, but I’m not sure I’m remembering that correctly.”

“Oh,” Abby said. “Um...how do you not know his name?”

“We talked a lot the night before, but just never got around to telling each other our names,” Clarke replied.

“So he doesn’t know your name, either?” Abby asked.

Clarke laughed. “No. Crazy right? I have to find him. I remember he was in the Army, but that’s all I know,” she hopped down from her barstool. “Can you help me? Or maybe I can ask dad?”

Abby nodded slowly. “I’ll try.” She was already racking her brain trying to figure out how to prevent her daughter from finding out who this man actually was. “Let’s do that first thing tomorrow. I brought Thai food home. Let’s eat and watch a movie. Okay?”

Clarke smiled at her. “Sure, sounds good.” She was anxious to find her mystery date, but so incredibly happy at the moment that she felt like she wanted to make her mom happy too.

She fell asleep smiling that night. “I’m going to find you,” she whispered.

************************************************************************************************************************

Abby didn’t sleep nearly as well as Clarke that night. She went back downstairs and picked up Clarke’s phone. She knew the passcode, so she tapped it in and stared at the photo of Bellamy.

“You are not going to ruin my daughter’s life,” she said to the photo. “She’s been through enough.”

As she looked at the photo, a plan began to take shape in her brain. If Clarke truly didn’t know his name, it might work.

She carried the phone and her laptop into her room and began searching for soldiers killed in action, specifically those from California based regiments. It would have to be sometime in the last few weeks so it was long shot, she knew. Her eyes scanned news stories, photos, one line descriptions. Forty-five minutes later, she was about to give up on her idea when a grainy black and white photo popped up on her screen. Bryan Blake, age 24, killed in action. She held the phone up and looked at the photo. The two men looked remarkably similar. Could she be that lucky? She printed the short story of the young man’s heroic death in combat and folded it in half.

If Clarke didn’t have Bellamy’s photo, it’s possible she might believe it to be the same person.

Like everything else she did, Abby convinced herself that what she was doing was best for Clarke. She took Clarke’s phone back downstairs, took one more look at the photo and deleted it.

The next morning, she held Clarke as she sobbed in her arms after reading the news story that Abby had printed. Abby apologized for accidentally deleting the photo. She had been trying to send it to the printer for Clarke to have a larger image, but she had hit the wrong button. Clarke was furious, but so inconsolable after reading the story that she couldn’t bother to yell at her mother about it. Unable to even contemplate a world without her best friend, or the man she had been convinced was her future, she spent the next six days in bed, recognizing that all of her pain had been brought on by a simple twist of fate.


	3. Felt an Emptiness Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many tragedies and near misses can two lives contain? Will Fate ever smile on Clarke and Bellamy or are they destined to always miss each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of rape. If this is a trigger for you, please do not read the section in italics after "Two Years Later"  
> Trigger Warning: Minor Character Death in the second set of italics half way through the chapter  
> Trigger Warning: Some PTSD in this chapter

***************************************************************************************************************************************

Clarke walked next to Jake across the grounds, keeping an eye out for Sinclair.

“Thanks for driving me over, sweetheart,” Jake said. “You didn’t have to. I know exams are keeping you busy.”

“Dad,” she said. “I don’t see you enough as it is. And I had the afternoon free. I wanted to do it.” She took his hand and squeezed it.

“How’s the new place?” Jake asked.

“I’ve been there for six months now, Dad,” she laughed. “It’s good. Nice to have my own space again.” She had spent six months following her accident with her mother, which had its advantages, but Abby’s constant hovering had been nearly more than she could handle.

“Well, it’s Friday. I hope you at least have something planned for the weekend. You’re young, Clarke. You need to get out and have fun once in a while.”

They saw Sinclair walking across the grounds and Jake raised his hand in a wave.

  
Clarke laughed. “Mom has convinced me to go on a date with someone she knows. Cage Wallace.”  
Jake frowned at her. “And who is Cage Wallace?”

She shrugged. “Some pharmaceutical exec she deals with at work. I’m only going so she’ll shut up about it.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I always found that to be easier, too.” They shared a laugh as Sinclair approached.

“Clarke, nice to see you,” he said.

“You too, sir,” she smiled. “I’m going to leave dad in your hands now.” She leaned down and kissed Jake on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Tell you about my date.”

“Okay, sweetie,” he said. She walked across the quad and had gotten over halfway across the grass when Sinclair turned to see another approaching figure. “Bellamy,” he nodded. Bellamy was wearing fatigues and had his rifle over his shoulder. He saluted briefly to Sinclair and Jake.

“Bellamy,” Jake greeted him warmly, then noticed that Bellamy’s eyes had travelled to the blond girl walking across the quad. “Keep your eyes off my daughter, Blake,” he joked. Bellamy immediately reddened.

“Sorry, sir,” he muttered. “I didn’t know she...”  
Jake waved him off. “I’m joking. I know she’s beautiful. I think I’m going to introduce you to her when you get back. Her mom’s sending her out on a date with some tight ass in a suit. Knowing her, it won’t go well for him.”

Bellamy chuckled. “I leave tomorrow or I’d be happy to meet her,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

Jake looked up at him. “You aren’t required to take so many tours, you know. How long is this one?”

“Two years, sir,” Bellamy replied.

Jake gave a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a long time to be away from home, son.”

Bellamy thought for a minute. He didn’t want to tell Jake that this place, with all its bad memories didn’t feel like home to him anymore. The house he grew up in, the one his mom had died in, was empty. Octavia rarely came back, even on the weekends. He preferred deployment to sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself.

“It’s a long time,” he finally agreed with Jake. “But no combat this time.”

“It was a hell of thing about Wick,” Jake said. “I was sorry to hear it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bellamy said. “Well, I need to get back. It was good to see you.”  
“Take care of yourself,” Jake said. Sinclair gave Bellamy a nod as he walked away.

**Two Years Later**

_Her arms ached from being tied over her head for so many hours. The places he’d bitten her collarbone were still throbbing and her throat was so dry and sore she couldn’t swallow. She could hear him, in her own fucking kitchen, making himself something to eat. Her emotions swung back and forth between rage and terror as she listened to the son of a bitch washing dishes, humming to himself. Bizarrely, her mind started trying to identify the tune. Was it Beethoven? Was he humming Ode to Joy? When she saw his tall frame darken the doorway again, it was terror that won out. He was still naked, still wearing the ski mask._

_She shook her head vigorously, tears coming to her eyes. “Please. No more,” she cried. He walked towards her slowly, stroking himself and putting on another condom, clearly enjoying her fear. When he got to the side of the bed, he reached down and ran his hand lightly along her thigh. She fought back the urge to scream. He’d punched her in the face the last time she’d done that. He crawled on top of her, putting a hand up to cover her mouth as he forced her legs apart with his knees. He hovered over her, his dark eyes glittering behind the ski mask. She closed her eyes and tried to just will her mind elsewhere._

Clarke woke up with a small gasp, her heart racing. Lexa’s arm was thrown across her waist, and she was still sound asleep. Clarke slipped out from under her arm and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water and shake the memory out of her head. The panic was threatening to take hold, so she breathed in and out, slowly, forcing herself to relax her balled up fists. It was still strange to her, this new home, her father’s condo that he’d left to her in his will. Jake had been dead for a little over a year now. He had fallen down the stairs and hit his head. An injury even his former wife the neuro surgeon couldn’t fix. He’d been dead on impact. She was still grieving for her father. The truth was, when she thought about it, she’d been in a state of grief for the last three years. Ever since the accident, she felt that all she had was a string of losses. Wells, her father, the beautiful Army Corporal who she once thought was her future. 

She was still thinking about this when she felt Lexa’s slender arms around her. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Hey, you okay?” Lexa asked, hugging her tightly from behind.

Clarke nodded and put her hand up to Lexa’s.

“Fine,” she said. “I just can’t sleep.” She turned around and put her hands on Lexa’s waist. Lexa leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips.

“I know something we can do to make you tired,” she whispered.

Clarke smiled at her. “I need to pack,” she said. “My flight leaves in just a few hours.”

“I’ve never been to New York City on Halloween,” Lexa said. “I wish I could come with you.”

“Well, I’ll be in the conference sessions the entire time. You’d probably just be bored in the hotel.”

Lexa gave her a mischievous grin. “We could go out trick or treating after you were done. It’d be fun to dress up.”

Clarke frowned. “No. It wouldn’t. I fucking hate Halloween.” She took a sip of water.

Lexa sighed. “You want to tell me what’s really wrong. I know you had a nightmare. And it’s not the first time.”

“I...uh. I’m fine,” Clarke said. “We all have bad dreams, right?”

Lexa gave her funny look, clearly unconvinced. “Yes, Clarke. But we don’t all have them as often as you seem to.”

“I said I’m fine,” she said with a little more force than she’d meant to.

Lexa threw up her hands. “Fine! But I think you should talk to someone about it. If you don’t want to open up to me...then maybe find a good therapist. Clarke, you’ve been through a lot with the accident, your dad. I mean, it’s been a year and you haven’t even taken anything out of his room yet. I want to know you’re okay.”

Clarke had never mentioned the Corporal to Lexa, or the other trauma she couldn’t even bring herself to think about when she was awake. For the last year she had gravitated more and more towards women when she looked for a sexual partner. She had let Lexa in more than anyone else, but she knew in her heart that she would never let anyone completely in. She no longer had that kind of trust in people. And besides, she told herself, she made a shitty partner. She never slept, she worked crazy hours, she was selfish in bed, and her home was a wreck. She looked around in dismay at the clutter that had accumulated in the living room, vowing silently to finally hire a cleaning service when she got back from her conference.

Lexa cleared her throat loudly. “Still here, Clarke?”

She nodded and reached out to take Lexa’s hand. “I’m here. And when I get back, I promise I’ll look into therapy. Okay?”

Lexa gave her a hug. “C’mon. I’ll help you pack.” They headed back to the bedroom.

******************************************************************************

_He brought his eye to the scope, checking and rechecking his sightline. The doorway was still empty, but they had both seen the man enter the building, flanked by two women who were clearly serving as shields. Wick lay on his stomach beside him, binoculars glued to his face._

_“Anything?” he asked. Wick grunted a negative._

_“He moved into the back room. The women are still near the window.”  
Bellamy’s finger was twitching on the trigger. He moved his head back slightly, closed his eyes and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter how many times he’d performed this act before, he still had to fight his nerves. _

_“Movement,” Wick whispered. He opened his eyes and waited. “He’s back,” Wick said. The building they were focused on was over a mile away. Both men wore desert fatigues and had crawled slowly for over two hundred yards to position themselves where they now lay in a shallow dip in the otherwise pancake flat landscape._

_“They’re getting ready to come out,” Wick said. “He’s going to be between the two women again. You’re only shot is gonna be as soon as the door opens.”  
_

_“Got it,” Bellamy said, resting his eye back to the scope. A slight wind blew the dust up around them and he blinked twice to keep the dust from entering his eyes._

_“Ready,” Wick said, his voice barely above a whisper._

_“Ready,” he replied._

_“Now!” The door opened and Bellamy spent a split second determining his shot, then pulled the trigger. The man dropped, the bullet having hit him just over his left eye. Wick whistled._

_“Shit, Blake. You dropped him.” He looked at Bellamy and grinned. “Nice shot.”_

_Bellamy nodded but didn’t say anything. Looking through his sight again, he could see several men gathering and running in their direction._

_“Wick, we better fucking move,” he said, grabbing his rifle as he and Wick rose to a crouching position. They turned and sprinted across the desert in the direction of the road. They could hear shots being fired behind them, but he could tell they were nowhere near to being in danger. He began to relax just slightly but as he turned back toward the road he saw a man standing on the edge of it, raising a rifle of his own. He was only fifty yards away._

_“Wick! Get down!” he yelled as he heard the bullet whistle through the air. He dropped to the dirt and looked back. Wick was on the ground. “Wick!” he screamed. He planted his rifle in the dirt and looked back in front of him. The man was taking aim a second time. Bellamy took no time in fixing his target and firing, dropping the man instantly. He crawled back to where Wick was on the ground. Rolling him over, he saw blood gushing from a wound in his chest._

_“No! No, stay with me,” he cried. He shoved his hands under Wick’s shoulders and half carried him, half dragged him. The bullets being fired from the advancing mob where now kicking up tiny dust clouds about ten yards away. He could see the truck speeding down the road towards him and he continued to drag Wick’s limp body towards it. As it skidded to a halt, Miller and Murphy leapt out and threw the back doors open. Bellamy handed Wick over to the other two and sprinted back to pick up his rifle. Bullets were pinging the ground not five yards away._

_“Hurry your asses up!” Raven yelled from the driver’s seat. The men hoisted Wick into the back and leaped in behind him, slamming the doors shut. Raven spun out in a sharp turn, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake._

_Bellamy had his hands pressed to Wick’s chest. “Stay with me, Kyle,” he said. “We’re getting you out of here.” There was desperation in his voice now. Miller and Murphy looked at one another and back at Bellamy. Miller put two fingers to Wick’s throat and waited for several seconds. He looked up at Bellamy and shook his head._

_“God damn it!” Bellamy yelled. He slammed his fist against the side of the truck, then just kept hitting it, over and over. “God damn it! God damn it!”_

Bellamy’s opened his eyes. There was a pounding on the door and he couldn’t place where he was right away. Then he recognized the hotel room, the shades drawn that still let in a sliver of the city lights outside, the digital clock on the night stand that told him it was two o’clock in the morning. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He had fallen asleep on the top of the covers, fully dressed. The knocking continued.

“All right,” he said. “I’m coming.”

He kept the chain on the door and cracked it open to see a young woman standing there. He had requested her from the escort service on more than one occasion. She was exactly what he wanted. Short, blond and curvy. He closed the door, slid the chain off and opened it again.

The young woman gave him a big smile. “Hello, again,” she said brightly. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Did I wake you up?”

“Huh?” he said, still a little disoriented. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I just...dozed off.” He backed up and allowed her to come all the way into the room. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Only if you’re having one.” She took off her coat and threw it across a chair, watching him pour two glasses of whiskey.

“I can’t take this with me on the plane, so we might as well drink up,” he said, handing her a glass. He took a long swig and watched her take a much smaller sip. “Sorry to bring you out so late,” he said.

She smiled again. “Well, I generally work nights, ya know?”

He smiled back at her. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He sat down in a chair next to the bed and began unlacing his shoes and kicking them off his feet. He leaned back and crossed his legs, taking another sip of whiskey. It was warming him, blunting the sharp edge of the nightmare she’d woken him from. A low hum of arousal was stirring in the back of his mind.

“Undress for me,” he said to her. “I want to watch.” He settled back in the chair, and leaned his head back, watching through half closed eyes as she shimmied out of her tight skirt and lifted her sheer blouse over her head. She slipped out of her bra and panties and when she was naked in front of him, he raised his right hand and gestured for her to come to him. He opened his legs and she knelt between them. His erection was now straining against his pants, but she knew exactly what she was doing so he closed his eyes and let her get to work.

She unzipped his pants and he lifted his hips for her to pull them down far enough to give her access to his cock. She wrapped her hand around the shaft and started stroking him. He groaned softly and put his hand over hers, demonstrating the pace he wanted.

“I always forget how big your cock is,” she purred, circling the head of it with her tongue. He inhaled through his teeth and ran his hand through her hair, resting it on the back of her head.

“You can handle it,” he whispered, pushing her head down as she took as much of him into her mouth as she could. He was one of her favorite clients. He was firm in his demands but never cruel. She wanted to please him, enjoyed making him arch his back and thrust his hips upward to feed her his cock. He had both his hands on the back of her head now, holding her in place while he fucked her mouth. She hummed with pleasure, running her free hand under his shirt and up his torso, feeling the heat of his skin and the firm muscles that lay beneath. She thought he was going to let her finish him off with her mouth, but he released her head abruptly.

“On the bed,” he said, his voice husky with desire. She pulled away from him slowly and climbed on the bed, remaining on her hands and knees, since she knew he preferred to take her from behind. She turned her head to watch him undress and roll on a condom, then position himself behind her.

He put one large hand at the curve of her hip, grasping her tightly. In the darkened room, at this angle, she looked enough like the woman he missed, the woman he could never have. He ran two fingers lightly down her spine before grabbing the other hip.

“You have a beautiful body,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” she giggled. “I’m glad you...oh!” she gasped as he entered her, shoving at least half his length into her without warning. He pulled out slowly, then thrust his hips forward again, this time burying his cock fully inside her. He stopped moving, letting her adjust to his size. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and his fingers quivered against her waist as he waited. She put one hand flat against the headboard and then nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered, giving him the permission he needed. He then began fucking her without restraint, each thrust of his hips rocking her body forward as she braced herself against the headboard. His grip on her hips was nearly painful, but she could only focus on the pleasure of being so completely filled by him. He used her this way for several minutes, then ran one hand around between her legs, his fingers finding her clit and pressing down, rubbing in small circles. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and leaned more fully into her, working her orgasm out of her body as she pushed her own hips back into him as hard as she could, moaning loudly as the wave of pleasure consumed her. When he could tell she was coming down from it, he reached up, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back slightly while he drove himself into her, quickly reaching his own climax. Pulling out, he rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes, still panting. She propped up on her elbow, smiling at him when he finally turned his head to look at her. He gave her a half smile back.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said, rolling out of the bed. She watched him walk to the bathroom, admiring his broad shoulders and ass. He was back a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist and rubbing another towel on his wet hair. Parting the drapes a little way, he stood and looked out the window. Berlin was one of his favorite tours of duty. In recent years, he’d requested as many deployments and tours as they would allow him, preferring to spare men with wives and families from having to go. In truth, he had no reason or desire to be at home that much anyway. His house was empty and every time he returned home, he was flooded with bad memories. It was easier to just stay away. At least this time when he returned home, it was for a happy occasion. Octavia was graduating college and he wasn’t going to miss that for the world. 

He felt her come up behind him, wrap her arms around him and run her hands up to his chest. She put her cheek against his back.

“I can stay the rest of the night if you want,” she said. “No charge.” She liked the thought of laying down next to him and falling asleep. He took her wrists gently in his hands and unwrapped himself from her embrace.

“That’s generous,” he said softly. “But I have to get back to the base. We’re flying out early.” He gave her another smile, even though his eyes looked incredibly sad to her. “But, thank you.”

She walked back and sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped back into his pants and pulled his shirt over his head.

“You know, I really don’t get it,” she said.  
“Get what?” he was putting his shoes on.

“You’re really good in bed. You’re not into anything kinky. You obviously have money. And you’re easy to look at. Why do you have to pay women to fuck you?”

He stopped tying his shoe and gave her a funny look.

“I don’t pay you to fuck me,” he said. “I pay you to leave.”

He stood up and pulled his wallet from his pocket, removing two hundred dollar bills and handing them to her. “Which, unfortunately, I need you to do now. I have a plane to catch.”

She knew better than to have her feelings hurt, so she just shrugged and took the money, stuffing it into her bra as she stepped into her skirt.

“Okay, gorgeous. Have it your way.” She stood and pulled on her coat. “Be sure and call me when you’re back in town.”

He smiled again. “I’ve got your number.”

“Maybe you can even tell me your name next time,” she laughed.

“Not likely,” he shook his head, walked her to the door and shut it softly behind her.

He finished packing up the few things he’d brought with him to hotel room and sat down on the bed, pulling a slender, rectangular box from the top of his bag. Inside was the gift he was bringing home to Octavia. He’d taken a train all the way to Switzerland to pick out the perfect watch. He knew she didn’t really wear a watch, but this one was a work of art. He turned it over carefully to see the clear Lucite backing that allowed him to examine the intricate inner mechanism. It appealed to him in ways he couldn’t define, but he knew on some level it was the comfort of holding something in his hand that made time, and life, somehow predictable. And the fact that he could literally turn back the tiny watch hands and create time again was a fantasy he had indulged in on more than one occasion. Especially this day, every year. It was Halloween.

**************************************************************************

Murphy was snoring beside him on the plane, his head leaning against his shoulder. Bellamy had his ear buds in, listening to Bob Dylan, thanking Jake Griffin silently for pushing his music tastes on him so many years ago. He felt a pang of regret every time he thought of missing Jake’s funeral. His death had hit Bellamy hard and if he hadn’t been overseas, he would have been there to pay his last respects to a man who had been more of a father to him than anyone else ever had.

The plane was approaching the final descent. Bellamy gave Murphy a nudge to wake him up. Murphy rubbed his eyes and looked at Bellamy.

“You look like shit,” he said. Bellamy’s hair had grown out and was uncombed and he had a two day stubble on his face.

“I hate to tell you, Murph. But you don’t look much better,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well I bet I’m still getting laid tonight,” Murphy said. “Just get me a hot shower and a razor and I’m hitting the town.” He elbowed Bellamy. “You should join me.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “No thanks. Octavia’s picking me up. We’re going to see a movie.”  
Murphy yawned. “Sounds domestic.”

Bellamy leaned his head back into the seat. “It sounds good to me.”

“Yeah, well you’re boring as shit,” Murphy said. “But I love you.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy laughed. “Good to know.” The plane touched down and he and Murphy stood, grabbed their duffle bags from the overheads and began walking down the aisle. There were at least a dozen servicemen and women deplaning. Several people thanked them for their service as they passed. Bellamy smiled and nodded as he walked.

The men and women in their fatigues all stayed more or less in a group as they walked through the terminal. When they reached the baggage claim area, they were greeted with a cluster of people holding up signs and cheering for them. Bellamy’s eyes travelled across the crowd. Murphy hit him on the shoulder.

“There’s my folks,” he said. “Gotta run. I’ll see ya, man.”

Bellamy waved at him and watched as he was embraced by his mother, father, two brothers and sister.

“Bell!” he heard through the crowd. He turned and saw Octavia standing alone. He grinned at her and rushed forward, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around. She laughed out loud, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“It’s good to see you, big brother,” she cried. “God, I missed you!”  
“I missed you, too,” he whispered into her hair.

“You ready to go home?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s move,” he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her out.

*****************************************************************************

Clarke pointed the Uber driver to her terminal entrance and scooted out of the car with her rollaway. She checked her phone to see her gate number and then glanced up at the schedule board. Her flight was on time. She started towards the gate, glancing over at baggage claim to see a small cluster of people holding signs. A group of service men and women approached the group and a cheer went up in the crowd.

“Bell!” she heard a young woman call. She turned to see a brunette woman running towards a man in fatigues. Her view was partially blocked by someone’s welcome home sign but she managed to see him from the back as he swung her around in his arms. She smiled to herself, remembering how she and mother had greeted her father at the airport sometimes. She wished the young couple well in her mind and continued walking towards her gate.


	4. They Sat Together in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy each try to move on with their lives while never knowing how close they come to finding each other again. Fate is trying, Fate is trying so hard to bring them back together.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy dug the toes of his sneakers in the loose dirt under the swing, gently rocking back and forth while Octavia breezed past him, leaning back in the swing on her way back down and grinning widely.

“C’mon, Bell!” she called. “Have some fun once in a while.”

He shook his head and smiled at her. “I’m having fun.”

She let the swing slowly come to a stop next to him, still breathless. “I haven’t done that in years,” she said.

“I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her the slim, rectangular box. “For graduation. I know, it’s a little early. I was just anxious to give it to you.”

Octavia opened the box slowly and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my god. Bellamy, this is beautiful!” She took the watch out gently and ran her fingers over the face. “I’ve never had such a nice watch.” She laughed. “Actually, I’ve never had a watch.”

He laughed with her, smiling as she turned it over and appreciated the inner workings just as he had done. “You did have a watch. A long time ago,” he said. “Mom gave it to you for your birthday. It was...some TV star.”

“Hannah Montana!” she laughed. “Oh my god! I forgot all about that.” She stopped smiling and took Bellamy’s hand.

“We do have a few good memories, don’t we?” she said quietly.

“Sure. There were moments in there,” he replied. He frowned at her. “Hey, why are you crying?” He reached over and wiped a tear off of her cheek.

Octavia shook her head. “I don’t know. Bell, I just...you deserved so much more! You did everything you could to take care of me. You didn’t get to go to college. I know you wanted to. And don’t tell me it’s fine! It isn’t. I would never have been able to do this without you.” She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and sniffed. “I need you to know how much I love you and how much I appreciate all of the sacrifices you’ve made for me. I wouldn’t be who I am if it weren’t for you.”

“I know,” he said. “I love you, too. And you need to stop worrying about me. I have a good life, O. I’m fine.” 

“You’re fine going on two year deployments?” she asked. “You’re fine with coming home to an empty house every time? I want you to be more than fine. I want you to be happy.” Bellamy was staring at the ground between his feet, his hands hanging on to the swing chains. “Look at me, Bellamy.”

He looked up at her. “What do you want me to say? Yes, it’d be nice to have someone in my life. But I don’t live the kind of life that makes that possible right now.” She started to speak but he interrupted her. “And I’m fine with it. Seriously.” He stood up from the swing and faced her, reaching down to help her clasp the watch around her wrist. “Let’s get home.”

**************************************************************************

Clarke ran her key card across the door and swung it open, ready to finally be done with this day. Her flight had been delayed in Chicago, she’d had to sit in the terminal with a couple who argued the entire time, and then had been seated next to man who refused to take the cue that she was absolutely not interested in him. She looked at her phone and sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to have time to do much more than freshen up. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, splashed some water on her face, reapplied her mascara and lipstick, and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked in the mirror and promised herself that after the conference session, she would treat herself to a hot bath, a bottle of wine, and maybe a rom-com on pay-per-view. She gave the luxurious looking bed a longing glance before shutting the door behind her. Once in the lobby, she followed the signs for the AAFP conference, held her chin up and opened the double doors into the conference center.

Four hours later, she returned. She’d run across the street as soon as the sessions were over and bought a nice bottle of red and a trashy romance novel. The man behind the counter had grinned as she handed him her credit card.

“Someone’s got a nice evening ahead,” he joked.

“Guilty pleasures are the best, aren’t they?” She laughed. Now, the wine tucked under her arm, the novel hidden in her bag, she walked back into her hotel room, immediately stepping out of her heels. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Lexa sitting near the window.

“Shit, Lexa! You scared me!” She cried. She put her bag on the bed as Lexa rose from her chair and came over to hug her. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Lexa smiled. “I played the sympathy card at the desk. Told him I’d forgotten it was our anniversary and could he please let me in the room so I could make it up to you? I may have added a few dollars to the request.”

She gave her a light kiss on the lips. “I know you said I’d be bored. I know you said you hate Halloween. I know you hate surprises. But,” she kissed her again. “I wanted to be with you. I want to see New York with you.”

Clarke wasn’t angry, exactly. But she gently pushed Lexa away and sat down on the bed. “It’s sweet, really. I’m glad to see you,” she gestured for Lexa down to sit next to her. “But...”

Lexa frowned and sat down. “But what?”

“Can we just stay in tonight? I have a nice bottle of wine. We can both fit in that giant sunken tub I paid extra for.” She stroked Lexa’s cheek gently. “And I can tell you why I hate Halloween so much. And then, tomorrow, we can go out and see the city together.”

Lexa put her hand on top of Clarke’s. “I’d love that. Tell me how the conference went.”

Clarke blew out a sigh. “It was good. I think? I did some networking. Met a couple of orthopedic surgeons who’ve published a lot in the field.”

“That’s great,” Lexa said. She knew Clarke was considering the field of orthopedics so she could help people like her father. “I hope you don’t have to take a residency too far away from me.”

Clarke smiled. “Me too.”

That night, after soaking in the tub, they lay in bed, snuggled together, Clarke’s head resting on Lexa’s chest while Lexa stroked her hair.

“So, I’ll start with Halloween three years ago,” she said. “I’d been seeing this guy named Finn...”

****************************************************************************

Octavia stepped over Bellamy’s legs that were thrown up on the coffee table as she handed him a big bowl of popcorn and a beer. She flung herself down beside him and pulled a blanket over both of them.

“Did you make reservations for dinner next month? Graduation...they’ll fill up.”

“I just did,” she said. “Table for four.”

“Four?” he asked.

“Yeah, just in case you want to...bring someone.”

He frowned at her. “We already discussed this. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Well, you might be by next week,” she laughed. “You never know.”

He shook his head, picked up the remote, pulled up Netflix and grinned at her.

“You sure you want to watch this one? It’s scary as hell.” He’d always loved horror movies. Octavia had always hated them.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure. I have you here to protect me,” she smiled and laced her arm into his. “It’s so good to have you home for a little while, Bell. I miss you so much,” she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head. “It’s good to be here. Are you sure Lincoln didn’t want to join us?”

She shook her head. “He knows I need to have some quality time with my brother.” She raised her left arm up and rotated her wrist, admiring the watch he had given her. “I really love this,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful. You spent more money on this than you should have.”

He poked her in the ribs. “You know me, I’ve always been good at saving my money and I have nothing else to spend it on. Let me enjoy giving my only sister a graduation gift, alright? Besides, once you’re an overpaid attorney, you need to be able to keep accurate time so you can charge people exorbitant rates.” 

“Okay,” she giggled. “I won’t say another word.”

“Do you know how proud I am of you?” he asked.

She nodded. “I do, yeah.” She nudged him. “So start the movie, dork.”

He laughed and hit the remote button. Octavia was asleep before the movie was half over, which he had completely expected.

He felt drowsy and content. He leaned his head back against the sofa cushion, thinking he would shut his eyes for just a second. He fell asleep and dreamt of the little park, of pushing Octavia on the swings, of buying her an ice cream on the walk home. It had been a good day, one of those good moments he remembered. They were smiling, laughing.

_Aurora wasn’t home when they got back, which wasn’t unusual. Bellamy heated up a can of spaghetti-o’s on the stove and he and Octavia ate dinner in front of the television. She had gone to bed before him and he had wanted to watch a scary movie so he was still awake when he heard Octavia crying. He went in her room to check on her._

_“Bad dream?” he asked. She nodded, bringing her knees up to her chest._

_“Can you stay in here for a little while, Bell?” she asked._

_“Sure,” he said, squeezing in next to her on the single bed. He intended to just wait for her to fall asleep but he ended up dozing off himself._

_He woke up to a painful grip on his arm as his mother dragged him out of the bed and into the living room._

_“What?” he asked groggily._

_She slapped him hard across the face, which woke him up immediately. “What the hell is the TV doing on?” she yelled._

_He was confused. He looked at the TV and remembered._

_“Octavia had a nightmare. I went in to check on her and I guess I fell asleep. Sorry.”_

_“Sorry?” she took him by the shoulders and shook him. “You’re sorry? You think I have enough money for you to just waste electricity by leaving the god damn TV on all night, Bellamy?” He didn’t answer so she slapped him again._

_“I said I was sorry!” he yelled, tears springing to his eyes. That seemed to make her even angrier._

_She bent down close to his face, close enough he could smell the cheap alcohol on her breath. “I used to have a good life. You know that? My life used to be fucking easy, and fun. And then I had you. And you know what, Bellamy? You aren’t worth it. You’re an ungrateful little shit that just sits around eating my food and wasting my electricity.” She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him toward the front door. “I tell you what. Why don’t you go out and make some money to help pay the fucking bills.” She flung him out the door onto the porch and locked it behind him. He could hear Octavia crying in the living room, pleading with her to let him back in, but Aurora sent her back to bed._

_“Mom!” he yelled, standing at the door. “I’m sorry. Just let me back in the house! Please?” He waited. It was silent in the house. He walked out into the front yard and looked up at Aurora’s window as the light went out. He swallowed hard, and walked back up the steps, sitting down on the top step, not really knowing what to do. It was chilly and he was barefoot and only had on a T-shirt and jeans. He was outside for an hour before the door opened slowly. He turned to see Octavia peering out at him. She looked behind her, then gestured for him to come in. He snuck in and tiptoed upstairs to his room. It was nearly daylight by this time but he fell asleep in his clothes and was still sound asleep the next day when his mom left. By the time she got home that afternoon she’d apparently forgotten all about the night before. She brought home KFC for dinner and hugged them both as soon as she walked in the door._

Bellamy woke up with a stiff neck and edged his way off the sofa without disturbing Octavia. He turned the TV off and pulled the blanket over Octavia. Upstairs in his room, he pulled a box down from his closet shelf and carried it to the bed. He opened it and pulled out the rhinestone crown and the photo he’d printed from his phone. Squinting at the photo like he always did, he tried to imagine exactly what this woman would have looked like without all the face paint. The picture was grainy and his memory was faded from that night, but he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He set the crown down on his nightstand with the photo and crawled into bed, falling back to sleep instantly, hoping the nightmares would stay away and give him at least a few hours of peace.

_She was standing there, in his jacket, looking at him with those impossibly blue eyes. He’d just told this woman more about himself in the last two hours than people he’d known for years. And he wanted to tell her more. He wanted to bear his soul, to put his burdens down at her feet and have her lift his spirit and make him whole._

_She smiled at him as the black car pulled up. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said._

_In his dream he stopped her, grabbed her hand, told her to come home with him after all. When he woke, it was with the realization that he had let her slip away._

******************************************************************************

**One month later.**

Lincoln, Octavia and Bellamy were seated near the rear of the crowded restaurant. Bellamy had ordered a bottle of champagne and was toasting the two of them on their graduation. The seat next to Bellamy remained empty, which had disappointed Octavia, but not surprised her.

“To both of you, may your years be filled with many successes,” Bellamy said, lifting his glass. He had already had two beers before the champagne arrived and even though he was smiling at the two of them now, Octavia could see the sadness in his eyes. 

“Mom would be proud of you too, O,” he said. She stood up from the table and came over to wrap her arms around him from the back, putting her face against his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

****************************************************************************

How Lexa had managed to get a table in this restaurant was a mystery to Clarke. Lexa always had ways of getting what she wanted. She had been overjoyed when Clarke told her that she had heard from an orthopedic surgeon who could find her a residency in the hospital here in town, so she wouldn’t have to relocate. There were here to celebrate, and Lexa had ordered a bottle of champagne, toasting Clarke and her bright future. Clarke had drunk the first glass quickly and felt light headed and joyful. She leaned across the table and kissed Lexa on the lips.

“You’re too good to me,” she said.

“I want you to keep thinking that,” Lexa laughed as the waiter arrived with the menus.

Clarke looked it over, ordered the scallops, and rose from the table. “I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said. “Be right back.” She took Lexa’s hand and squeezed it. “This is really a nice surprise.”

She was freshening her lipstick at the mirror when a stunning brunette emerged from one of the stalls and began washing her hands and then also reapplying her lipstick. Clarke made eye contact with her in the mirror.

“That’s a beautiful watch,” she commented.

The brunette rotated her wrist and smiled. “Thank you. It’s a graduation gift from my brother.”

“Oh! Congratulations,” Clarke said. “He must be really proud of you.”

“Yeah,” the woman said. “I’m proud of him, too. He’s pretty amazing.” They left the restroom at the same time, Clarke turning left and the brunette turning right to return to their tables.

****************************************************************************

**Six Months Later**

_She hopped in the car and immediately turned her head around to watch him walk down the sidewalk, not turning back around until he was out of sight._

_“So who was that?” asked Wells._

_“My future,” she said with a slightly drunken smile._

_“Is he military?”_

_“How’d you know?” she asked._

_“Posture, haircut, chivalry,” Wells counted these traits out on his fingers as he spoke._

_“Chivalry?” Clarke asked._

_Wells gestured to the jacket. “He put his jacket on you. Now he’s walking home without one and it’s pretty cold tonight. So, yeah.” He laughed. “Guy’s impressed.”_

_“I’ll give it back to him tomorrow,” she said, a sly smile on her face. “We have a date.”_

_Wells frowned at her. “Um. Does Finn know you’re going on a date with someone else?”_

_“Finn,” Clarke began and hiccupped, “doesn’t get to know anything about what I do, ever again.”_

_Wells raised his eyebrows. “You want to tell me why?”_

_Clarke gave a little shrug. “It’s partly because I caught him fucking another woman tonight.”_

_Wells winced. “Jesus. I’m sorry. That son of a bitch. You don’t deserve that.” He paused. “But that’s just part of it?”_

_Clarke looked at him and smiled. “It’s mostly because I just met the love of my life.”_

_He smiled back at her. He’d secretly always hated Finn anyway. “Glad to hear it. But, I can just hear your mom now.” He imitated Abby’s voice. “Clarke, I don’t want you to get involved with a military man. He’s beneath you.” They both laughed._

_“Yeah, well she doesn’t get to know anything about what I do again either.” She rolled down the window and in spite of the cold night air, she stuck her head out and screamed. “I’m free! And I’m in love!”_

_Someone walking down the sidewalk yelled back “Congratulations!” and both she and Wells started laughing._

_She was more than happy to get out of the stupid princess gown as soon as she got back to her apartment. It took a long time to remove all the face paint and wash the pink glitter out of her hair. “Never again,” she said to herself when she was finally in her pajamas and settling into bed. She pulled the photo up that she had taken in the bar. The light was low and the phone camera wasn’t the best quality, but she could still see his embarrassed smile, his freckles, his beautiful brown eyes. She reassured herself she could get a better picture of him tomorrow night. For now, this would have to do. She touched the photo lightly with her fingertip. “You really are a prince,” she whispered._

Clarke opened her eyes and checked the time, groaning. Roan would be here in fifteen minutes.

She grudgingly rose and dressed. She put on her running shoes, wondering to herself why she had accepted Roan’s invitation. He never did anything halfway, and she knew that two miles in, she would regret ever having agreed to this. At least there would be a big breakfast at the end of it. She got a text from Roan that he was out front, so she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. 

“Hey, beautiful!” he yelled from the car window. “Ready for me to kick your ass on the trails?” She rolled her eyes at him and pointed. “You are buying me an omelet. A big one.” He let out a big laugh and nodded.

“You got it.” He looked over at her as she sat down. “You look happy,” he remarked.

She smiled. “I am. Lexa and I are getting along really well. She surprised me in New York a while back. Showed up in my hotel room and we just...talked, about a lot of things.”

“Romantic,” he commented.

“It was,” she agreed. She had opened up to Lexa, finally, about the events of three years ago. Finn, the cheating, the accident that killed Wells. She had still not mentioned the man she’d met the same night and that he was the reason she’d been out with Wells the night of the accident. She’d also not told Lexa about her rape the following year. She’d never told anyone but the police. She knew it would have killed her dad, knowing he couldn’t protect her from it. And Abby? Well she would have tried to take charge of Clarke’s ‘recovery’ and Clarke would have become her mother’s project again after finally getting back out on her own after the accident. Now Jake was dead and she’d decided she might tell her mom about it later, only if the police ever caught the bastard. 

“Glad to hear it,” Roan said as he backed out of the driveway. “You deserve to be happy, Clarke.”

A few minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of the running trail head. Clarke got out, tightened her laces and started stretching. She was twisting side to side and her eyes landed on the basketball courts a few yards away. There was a group of four men shooting hoops, all shirtless. They were rowdy, clearly not serious about the game, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves. There were hoots and taunts every time one of them shot and missed. 

Roan took off down the trail and called back to her. “Last one back is buying the omelets!”

“Shit,” she said, taking off after him.

Bellamy was about to shoot the ball. He glanced over just as a blonde woman jogged past on the trail. He hesitated just long enough for Lincoln to come up and tap the ball out of his hands and make the shot instead.

“Wow, Bellamy,” Murphy laughed. He glanced over to see what had caught Bellamy’s attention, his eyes catching on a blond ponytail disappearing into the wooded trail. He turned back to Bellamy and raised his eyebrows. “Nice! You wanna go after her? We can wait here.” Miller and Lincoln laughed and Bellamy rolled his eyes.

They continued to play for another half hour until Miller announced he had to go take his mom to brunch for her birthday. They sat on the benches packing up their gym bags and guzzling water. Miller was the first to leave, followed by Murphy.

Bellamy was picking his bag up to go and Lincoln touched his arm. “Hey, man. Can you stick around a minute? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Bellamy said, sitting down on the bench.

Lincoln shifted on his feet, clearly a little nervous. Bellamy took another drink of water and waited.

“I...uh. Well, you know Octavia and I have been together for a long time now,” Lincoln said.

Bellamy eyed him over his water bottle, wiped his mouth and grinned. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there from the beginning.”

Lincoln chuckled. “I know you guys are close. You’re the only family she has and I just wanted to say...I wanted to know...”

“Just spit it out, Lincoln,” Bellamy suggested, already anticipating what Lincoln would say next.

“I want her to marry me,” he said. “And I wanted to...I don’t know.”

“Ask my permission?” Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Lincoln said. “I guess. I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

Bellamy stood. “Lincoln, you make Octavia happy. You’re good to her and she’s in love with you. I’m more than okay with it. I’m fucking ecstatic!” He gave Lincoln a big hug. “Welcome to the family.” He stood back and tapped his own chest. “It’s me. I’m the family.”

Lincoln laughed out loud, clearly relieved. “Thanks, Bellamy. Octavia is special. I want to do this the right way.”

“Yeah, she is,” Bellamy agreed. “You’re a lucky man. You’ll be the best brother-in-law I could ask for. And I have to thank you for your timing.”  
  
“Oh?” Lincoln asked.

“I’m deploying again next week. I haven’t told Octavia yet.”

Lincoln blew out a sigh. “She’s not gonna like that.”

Bellamy grasped him by the shoulder. “And that, my friend, is why I’m thanking you. Maybe when you give her that ring, she’ll stop worrying about me and start planning a wedding.” He laughed but Lincoln remained serious.

“Bellamy, Octavia is never going to stop worrying about you. You know that, right?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Well, as long as you’re back for the wedding, I think I can cover for you.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bellamy grinned.

Lincoln laughed. “Well, at least we know to set the date for about June of next year then. Thanks for the heads up.”

******************************************************************************

**One year and one month later**

Octavia and Lincoln had decided to go with a fairly small ceremony. They wanted an outdoor wedding and June would almost certainly guarantee good weather. Bellamy had missed the majority of the preparations, and Octavia would not let him forget that. She had charged him with finding a venue for the rehearsal dinner, and that had happily coincided with an invitation from Raven to ride motorcycles through the mountains. They could stop at some wineries along the way and he could get some information to take back to Octavia.

It was a beautiful spring day. He pulled up to Raven’s house and hopped out of his truck. She came out to the driveway and waved.

“Ready for some thrills?” she asked.

He laughed and followed her to the garage, pulling his leather jacket on as he approached. She was loaning him her brother’s bike for the day. It was a beautiful machine. He ran his hands over it and nodded with appreciation.

“Yeah, let’s ride,” he said.

They pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the mountains. Bellamy was following Raven, much less willing to take the curves at the same speed. On the straightaways, though, he would blow past her and she would offer him a cheeky salute. 

He motioned to her that he was pulling into a gas station and they both pulled up to the pumps. Raven took off her helmet and shook her hair loose.

“I’m getting some gummy bears,” she announced. “You want anything?” Bellamy shook his head and started filling his tank.

He gazed out across the hillside as he was waiting for the tank to fill. They were only a few miles from the lake he loved. He wouldn’t make it over there today, but it stirred up emotions he hadn’t felt in years. He seldom went back ever since he’d left his mother by the water’s edge and every time he had gone back it had reminded him of the blonde princess that was meant to be there with him.

“Dammit, Bellamy,” he chided himself. “Fucking get over it.” He jammed the nozzle back into the pump and waited for Raven to come back outside.

Raven was flirting with the cashier as she threw the gummy bears on the counter along with two bottles of water. The poor kid was probably only eighteen at most.

“You like to ride?” she grinned wickedly at him, making him blush. She winked at him as he handed her the change, then turned and sauntered out of the store. Halfway back to the bikes, she brushed past a blonde woman who was headed inside. The woman turned and looked over to the bikes, briefly admiring the helmeted rider who was wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and combat boots.

“You should be careful on those curves up here,” she said almost instinctively. “I see a lot of motorcycle injuries. They’re not pretty.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Raven said breezily.

Clarke returned to her own car a few minutes later. Lexa had taken the top down and gave her quick kiss as she sat back down. Clarke took one more glance in her review mirror at the man in the leather jacket as he swung his leg back over his bike and gunned it out of the parking lot, his companion close behind him.

***************************************************************************

Octavia straightened his bow tie. “You look good, Bell,” she said. “I’ve never seen you in a tux.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he laughed. “I’m only in this for you.”

He squeezed her hand lightly and they began walking down the aisle. He looked over at her and saw her smiling at Lincoln who was waiting next to the minister. She looked up at Bellamy and mouthed “I love you,” before they stopped and stood with their backs to the small crowd.

“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the minister asked.

“I do,” said Bellamy, releasing Octavia’s hand and taking a step back.

The ceremony was short and sweet and after Bellamy toasted the new couple it was apparent that the guests were ready to relax, eat and dance.

Octavia and Bellamy stepped on the dance floor together and he twirled her around and handed her gently to Lincoln. The guests all applauded and he gave a little bow to the happy couple before seating himself at the bar.

A pretty blonde bartender approached him. “What can I get you?” He gestured to one of the beers displayed and she popped the bottle open and put a glass in front of him, pouring half the beer into it. She leaned down on the bar and smiled at him.

“Family?” she asked.

“Brother,” he replied.

“They look good together,” she said, glancing over at Octavia and Lincoln dancing, totally enraptured in each other.

Bellamy smiled. “They do, don’t they?” He looked back at the bartender. “Bellamy,” he said, offering his hand.

“Bree,” she said, giving his hand a quick shake. “Where’s your date, Bellamy?”

He laughed. “I don’t have one.”

She raised her eyebrow and said nothing. He was still looking at her with a mixture of casual interest and loneliness. She was well acquainted with that look.

“Let me see your phone,” she said. He gave her a funny look and reached into his interior jacket pocket. He handed her his phone and she tapped her number in. “Here’s my number. Maybe you can use it sometime?”

He took it back and looked at it, smiling. “Bree. That’s a pretty name,” he said, tucking his phone back inside his pocket and standing up. He glanced around at the remaining guests and saw Octavia speaking with another couple. He walked up behind her and gave her arm a squeeze.

“Hey, sis. I’m heading home,” he said. “I’m beat.”

She turned and hugged him tightly. “Thanks for the beautiful toast. I love you so much. I’ll call you as soon as we’re back in town.”

“Enjoy Belize,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back.” He gave Lincoln a firm handshake and headed out to his truck. He pulled his jacket off and laid it across the seat and undid his bowtie. Sitting with the truck running for a minute. He pulled his phone out and stared at it. Finally, he punched in a number and waited.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice said.

“Hey, Bree,” he laughed. “I decided to use your number.” There was laughter on the other end.

“Where are you?”

“In the parking lot,” he said. “What time do you get off?”

“I can be done in ten minutes,” she said. “You wanna give me a ride home?”

“Sure,” he said, feeling a twinge of arousal.

They pulled into her driveway next to her babysitter’s car and turned the truck off, hoping she was going to invite him inside. All the lights were off in the house. She turned towards him.

“I’m sure the babysitter is asleep on the sofa. I’m afraid we might wake up my kids if you come inside,” she said. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, it was great to meet you...” he was interrupted by Bree crashing her lips into his and kissing him hungrily. She gave a little moan when he ran his hand behind her head and kissed her more deeply, his tongue working its way past her teeth and exploring her mouth.

Bree reached across him and pushed the lever to drive his seat back and he smiled against her lips. He pulled away from the kiss.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Making more room,” she said, shifting herself over to his seat and straddling him as he reclined his seat. His dick was already painfully hard as she lifted her skirt up and began grinding her hips against him. Bellamy laid his head back on the seat as she began unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands inside it and down his chest. She bent forward and kissed him on the collar bone, then bit his nipple lightly. He arched his back and put his arm around her waist, holding her down as he bucked his own hips upward. He brought his other hand under her skirt, nudging her underwear out of the way and sliding two fingers inside her cunt. She was already hot and wet as he began fucking her with his fingers, adding a third as she writhed and moaned. Bree became more frantic, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. She lifted herself off him and he withdrew his fingers so he could pull his pants and boxers down.

“Condom,” she gasped.  
“Glove box.”

Bree twisted around and opened the glove box, pulling out a condom which she tore open with her teeth. Rolling it quickly down onto his cock and positioning herself at the head, she began to push herself down on him as he grabbed the headrest behind him and let her set her own pace. She gave him a wicked smile as she rose off of him and then slammed her hips down, taking him all the way in. Bellamy gave a guttural moan of pleasure and continued to cling to the headrest as Bree pulled his tie slowly away from his shirt and wrapped it around his neck. She pulled it tight behind his head with both hands and began to ride him hard. He was panting and opened his mouth to say something but stopped.

“Too much?” Bree asked. Bellamy shook his head.

“More,” he rasped. She tightened the binding around his neck and he began rutting mindlessly up into her, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and grind her forward every time he thrust upwards. Bree came quickly and loudly. She still had the tie wrapped around his neck as she rode out her orgasm and slowly released her grip. Bellamy came almost immediately afterwards and he inhaled deeply, feeling lightheaded and spent.

Bree rose off of him and flopped down in her own seat. “That was exactly what I needed,” she sighed.

He smiled at her. “Oh yeah?” He nodded as he pulled his pants back on and buckled his belt. “Me too.” She pulled the visor down and glanced at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hair and wiping the smeared lipstick from her face. Leaning over, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Keep my number,” she said, opening the door and hopping out of the truck. Bellamy watched her walk up to her door, appreciating the way her blonde hair fell down her back and the curve of her hips. Her kiss hadn’t made him want to give his whole world to her like it had with his princess, but it was the closest feeling he’d had to something real for a long time. He decided he would definitely keep her number. He waited until she had made it inside her house before pulling out of the driveway and heading home. 


	5. She Looked at Him and He Felt a Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate may be finally starting to work in their favor. Bellamy finally feels like he can move on, but Clarke realizes fate may not have been as cruel as she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are posting early this week due to the upcoming holiday, but be back to a regular posting schedule next week. Happy reading!

************************************************************************************************************************

In the months following the wedding, Bellamy continued to see Bree. When he was honest with himself, he knew that it was purely out of convenience. She was always more than happy to meet him for dinner or a drink, which inevitably led to them having sex, which he didn’t mind. But, she had never invited him into her house and she’d never been to his. He was still trying to decide if this bothered him or if he needed to try to maintain or even strengthen the relationship for the next six months when he would be in officer training in Virginia. He came home in spring with an answer to his question. Bree had started seeing someone else in his absence. She seemed about as committed to that relationship as she had to Bellamy though, offering to meet him for drinks when he was back in town.

He knocked on Octavia’s door and waited. Within minutes, she threw the door open and squealed.

“You’re back!” she cried, pulling him in to a hug. When he stepped back she gave him a fake frown. “I explicitly said bring a date,” she said. He winced and began making excuses for his lack of a date as he entered the house and shook hands with Lincoln.

Bellamy followed them both into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching Octavia finish the dinner prep. He opened the bottle of wine he’d brought with him and pulled three glasses out of the cabinet. Octavia put her hand up to the rim of hers when he had barely poured.

“Just a taste for me,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Sis?”

She gave him a half smile and looked over at Lincoln, who had a broad grin on his face.

“No way,” Bellamy said. She nodded. He picked her up in a bear hug. “Oh my god, O. I’m going to be an uncle?”

Octavia held him at arms’ length and bit her bottom lip. “And, maybe, a godparent?” she asked.

Bellamy looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath. When he looked back at Octavia, his eyes were shining with tears that had yet to fall. “Of course,” he whispered. “I’d love that. More than you know.”

She hugged him again and then he reached over and pulled Lincoln into the embrace with them.

“You better stick around until this baby is born, Bell,” Octavia warned him.

“I will,” he said. “Promise.”

He laughed and joked with them throughout dinner, helping come up with baby names, and somehow promising to come help paint the nursery. It was late before he finally left and sat in their driveway for a few minutes. He sighed heavily and picked up his phone, tapping a quick text to Bree.

‘Hey. I miss you. Can we meet?’ He didn’t have to wait long for her to reply.

‘The usual place?’

‘Yeah,’ he responded, pulling out of the driveway and heading to the bar near his house. He ordered his beer and took a seat at the table by the window, the same one he would forever be drawn to. He only had time to drink half his beer before Bree walked in and plopped herself down in the chair next to him.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’m up early tomorrow so I better not.” He nodded and drank down the rest of his beer before standing up. They walked out to his truck together and he opened the door for her to get in.

“Always the gentleman,” she laughed.

******************************************************************************

For reasons she couldn’t understand, Clarke found herself opening the door to the bar she hadn’t set foot in for years. A twinge of nostalgia and heartbreak hit her as she approached the bar and ordered two shots of tequila. She turned to see the empty table near the window and took her drinks there, picking up the empty beer bottle and setting it to the side. She felt a rush of memories come back to her, of that fateful night that had forever changed her life.

“Sorry,” the bartender said, coming around and picking up the empty bottle. “Guy just left. I hadn’t had time to wipe the table yet.” She waved him off.

“It’s fine,” she threw back a shot and glanced out the window, replaying her conversation with Lexa, trying to figure out where she’d taken a wrong turn. Lexa had been so happy when they’d met for dinner. But she’d been nervous too. It took a long time for her to finally ask Clarke what she had wanted to ask. Could they move in together? The way Clarke had hesitated had been all the answer Lexa needed. An argument followed, with Clarke trying to explain that she just wasn’t ready for that level of commitment. Lexa demanded to know when Clarke thought she would be ready. She couldn’t answer. The night had ended with them tearfully agreeing that some time apart would be for the best. And now, here she sat, drinking alone in a bar that brought up nothing but bad memories for her.

“Dammit, Clarke,” she said to herself, throwing back her second shot. “Fucking get over it”

******************************************************************************

Bellamy was in the waiting room, his feet tapping the floor nervously. Every few minutes he got up, paced the room and sat back down. An older couple sat across from him. The woman smiled at him.

“Are you the husband?” she asked. He glanced up and gave her a sheepish grin.

“Brother,” he replied. “It’s my first niece.”

“How sweet,” the woman responded. “We’re waiting for our eighth grandchild.”

“Oh! Congratulations,” he said, momentarily wondering what that would even be like. The double doors from the maternity ward opened and tall man walked out, heading straight for Bellamy.

“Are you the brother?” he asked, extending his hand. “I’m Roan McGowan. I just delivered your niece.” He pulled his surgical mask away and gave Bellamy a huge grin. “She a beauty.”

Bellamy followed him into the delivery room. Octavia was propped up in her bed, her arms wrapped around a tiny bundle. She looked up at Bellamy and smiled through her tears. Lincoln was sitting beside her and he stood up and gave Bellamy a hug.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said and stepped out with Roan.

Bellamy eased himself down into the chair next to Octavia. She shifted and offered the little bundle to him. His eyes grew big, but he reached out and took the baby from her, feeling his heart break a little when he saw her tiny wrinkled face peering out from the blanket around her head.

“Oh my god, Octavia,” he whispered.

“Meet Nyx Blake Forrester,” Octavia said. He looked up at her.

“I was just goofing around when I came up with that name,” he laughed.

“I know,” she said. “We sort of laughed it off at first, but the more we thought about it, the more we liked it. I want her to be a kick ass woman with a kick ass name.” She reached out and put her hand over his. “And I wanted to pay a tribute to her uncle Bellamy. You came up with my name too, according to mom.”

He looked back down at little Nyx and swallowed hard, fighting back a wave of emotions.

“Little Warrior Goddess of the Night,” he whispered. “I think it suits you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

**One and a Half Years Later**

Clarke checked her watch and blinked, not believing what it was telling her. She had skipped lunch and it was past dinner. She was digging around in her desk drawer for a granola bar when there was a soft rap at the door.

“Come in,” she called. Monty poked his head in and smiled.

“Your shift was over two hours ago,” he said, walking all the way in. “Is this really how you want to celebrate your birthday?”

“My birth...Oh, yeah.” She looked at the calendar. Tomorrow was March 31. “I guess I forgot,” she said. She and Monty had grown close over the years. Not only was he an incredibly skilled nurse, but he also had more compassion and intelligence than all of the other surgeons she worked with combined. With a specialty in orthopedics, Clarke had been exposed to more egos and competitive bullshit than she could stomach. She was respected in her field, but she knew there was always going to be talk behind her back about how she had gotten one of the top surgeon positions at the hospital because her mom was now the Chief of Surgery.

Monty laughed. “Clarke, promise me you at least made a reservation at the spa like you said you would.”

Her expression made him groan. “Alright,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m doing it for you.”

“Monty,” she laughed. “What would I do without you?”

He shrugged, his thumbs flying across his phone. “You would grow old and gray, and then die here in this hospital.” He made a few more taps. “There, you’re booked for tomorrow. Eleven o’clock. Brunch included.” He finally looked up at her. “Don’t skip this. I already paid for it.”

She shook her head. “I won’t miss it. I promise. Thank you.”

He grinned at her. “Now go home.”

She stood up. “I will. I’m just going to go down and do the rounds one more time. I’ll be done in thirty minutes.”

Monty shook his head, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to convince her to just go home. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll see you in two days. And I’ll need to hear details of the spa, or it didn’t happen.”

She laughed and closed the door behind them, putting her bag over her shoulder. She gave him a quick hug and walked down the hall towards the pediatric wing.

She opened the door to the wing and stood and watched the kids in the common area for a few minutes. Pediatrics was her favorite area. Kids, for the most part, were cheerful in spite of being sick or in pain. They were resilient and it was gratifying to see progress in the form of smiles and laughter. She chatted with a small girl she had promised to say goodnight to and continued through the room, giving hugs and little waves to each child.

Next, she made her way into the rooms where patients too sick or too early in their recovery stayed. Beds lines the walls, with curtain dividers. She glanced in on each one, checking charts and talking to those that wanted to. Near the end of one row, she looked at the chart and frowned before entering.

“Andrew?” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were back.”

The slight, brunette boy was sitting up in bed, reading a comic book. He gave her a big smile.

“Hi Dr. C,” he said. “Yeah, I came back today.”

She sat on the edge of his bed and leaned in to give him a hug. “Did you have some surgery?”

He nodded. Andrew was a foster kid who had been in and out of the hospital several times in the past two years after being diagnosed with leukemia. While he was in remission, the toll of the treatment on his small body had brought him back numerous times. He seemed to take it all in stride, always smiling and sweet to other kids in the wing. The nurses all adored him and he held a special place in Clarke’s heart, too.

She smiled at him. “Well, it looks like you’re here for a little while. At least I get to spend some time with you.”

“Hey, Dr. C,” he said. “When I was being admitted today, I saw a banner in the waiting room. Something about Supporting Our Troops.” He paused. “I was thinking...I can’t really go out and pick up donations or anything like that, but is there something else I could do?”

Clarke tilted her head and smiled at him. “You know what, Andrew. My dad was in the Army.”

“He was?”

“He was, yeah. And one of his absolute favorite things in the world was getting mail,” she said. “He told me about all the service men and women sitting in the mess hall, waiting for the mail call. And it was like Christmas when your name got called and you had a letter, or a package.” She grinned at him. “I used to write to him all the time. Even just little drawings, or poems. He loved all of it.”

Andrew thought about this for a minute, then he nodded. “I could do that. And I bet I could get some of the other kids to write letters too.” He frowned. “I don’t know where to mail them, though.”

Clarke gave his hand a squeeze. “I tell you what, Andrew. I still know some people I could talk to. I’ll find out for you. Maybe we can adopt a troop and all send them some letters.”

He smiled. “Good idea, Dr. C.”

She stood up. “Okay, well you get some rest and I’ll see you in a day or two.”

“Thanks,” he said, picking up his comic book and laying back down on the pillow.

******************************************************************************

Clarke had kept her word to Andrew and had spoken to Sinclair on the base. He loved the idea of kids exchanging letters with the soldiers and he gave her a list of service men and women in the same unit, several of whom were from the local area. She brought it to Andrew who enthusiastically assigned each kid in the wing a soldier as a pen pal. Clarke collected the letters and made sure they were stamped and delivered. It was two weeks before an answer came, but Andrew made her sit down and excitedly opened the letter to read out loud to her.

_Dear Andrew,_

_Wow! Thanks for the long letter. I can’t tell you how great it is to get mail all the way from back home. You and your friends at the hospital are really awesome._

_I remember the park you talked about in your letter. I love how you described it! Me and my sister used to go there too when we were little kids. I’m glad it’s still there. I’m sorry you haven’t been able to see it in a while, but once you get better, I bet you’ll be back!_

_You asked me to tell you about a typical day where I am, so here goes..._

_******************************************************************************_

_...We get up early. VERY early! And we spend the morning in training drills. It’s a lot like PE class, it just goes on for hours._ ___But it keeps all of us in shape and ready to go fight if we ever have to. None of us want to, but it still feels good to know we’re prepared. I’m a sniper, which means I can hit a target from really far away, so I also have to do specialized training._

_I’m a Lieutenant in the Army now, because I’ve been in it for a long time. I joined the Army when I was 18, which seems like a long time ago! And I have a platoon I’m in charge of that has about 50 soldiers in it. Some of them have been my friends for years. We look after each other. It sounds like you have friends that do the same for you._

_We eat in the middle of the day and then go back to training, chores, or classes. So, the day is really busy and I’m usually pretty tired at the end of it. I like to read before I go to bed. My favorite books are about history and Greek mythology. What books do you like?_

_You told me how long you’ve been in foster care and I’m sorry that you haven’t found a family yet. My only family is my sister and even though that makes it a really small family, just know that sometimes all you need is one other person in your corner. And you’ll have that one day soon, I’m sure._

_I do get homesick sometimes. Thanks for asking! I’ve been here for about a year and a half, and it gets a little lonely here so it made me really happy to see a letter with my name on it and my hometown in the return address. I hope you keep writing and I hope you get better really soon._

_Your friend,_

_Lt. Bellamy Blake_

Bellamy folded the letter and put it an envelope to send out in the next day’s mail. He lay back on his bunk with an open book in his hands, but he was thinking about home, about his sister and her growing family. If he closed his eyes, he could envision the park Andrew described and remembered pushing Octavia on the swings. She was braver than he was, and always wanted him to push her so high the chains grew slack and she would scream in pleasure all the way back down while he held his breath, ready to try and catch her if she fell out. He shouldn’t have worried about Octavia as much as he had. She had continued to be fearless and unstoppable. She and Lincoln had finished law school the same year and had immediately set up a practice in town, Lincoln doing a lot of pro bono work for needy families and Octavia bringing in the money by practicing tax and corporate law. All while raising their daughter and expecting another baby later in the year. He was still thinking about Octavia as his eyes grew heavy and he began to doze.

_He walked in their small house after working late at the grocery store to discover his mother’s former drug dealer sitting on the sofa next to Octavia. The man’s nervous ticks and inability to focus his eyes on any single thing set alarm bells off in Bellamy’s head. He advanced into the room._

_“What the hell are you doing here, Jason?” he asked._

_The man stood and ran his hands through his hair. “Hey Bellamy, your little sister was nice enough to let me in.” Jason grinned at him and Bellamy just continued to stare at him._

_“You need to leave. Now.” He said, his arms folded over his chest. At seventeen, Bellamy was taller than a lot of boys his age and more muscular. He definitely had twenty pounds on the man standing in front of him._

_“Hey, man. No need to get nasty,” Jason slurred. “I was just checking in on your mom. I haven’t heard from her in a long time.”_

_“You won’t be hearing from her again,” Bellamy said. “And if you come back here again, I’ll kill you.” He surprised even himself saying that, but the predatory look Jason had been giving his little sister when he walked in and the way she now sat huddled on the far end of the sofa was causing a rage to build up in his chest that he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to control._

_Jason sucked his teeth for second and nodded. “Alright, that’s cool. Just let me know if you need anything.” He turned back to Octavia and grinned at her. “You too, little girl.” He turned back to walk out the door and his face met Bellamy’s fist. He crumpled to the floor, holding his hands to his face._

_“You fucking dick!” he screamed. He stood up on wobbly legs, blood seeping through the fingers he held over his face._

_“Bellamy!” Octavia screamed. Bellamy glanced down in time to see Jason pull a knife from his belt and swing it ineffectively towards Bellamy’s face. He sidestepped the clumsy attack and punched Jason in the gut. The knife fell to the floor. Jason was doubled over and Bellamy gave him a hard shove, sending him toppling backwards onto his ass. He stepped around him, flung the door open and turned back to Jason._

_“Get your ass out of my house!” he thundered._

_Jason stood and headed for the doorway. He turned back and spat at Bellamy._

_“You better watch your back, asshole,” he muttered. He wobbled down the steps and disappeared into the shadows._

_Bellamy closed and locked the door, then rushed over to sit next to Octavia, who had begun to cry. He smoothed her hair and wiped her cheeks with his thumb._

_“Hey, shhhh, it’s okay. He’s gone,” he whispered._

_“What if he comes back,” she sobbed._

_“He won’t,” Bellamy said. “I promise.”_

_That promise kept him awake well past midnight. Octavia was sound asleep in her room as Bellamy left the house quietly, put a gas can in the trunk of the car, and rolled out of the driveway with the headlights off._

Bellamy opened his eyes and tried to clear his head. He sat up and the book slipped off his chest and onto the floor. The sun was just beginning to rise and he really needed a cup of coffee.

******************************************************************************

Clarke took the letter from Andrew’s hands after he finished reading it to her. She looked at the careful handwriting and the signature: Bellamy Blake. She touched the signature lightly with her finger. Andrew was watching her.

“Do you know Lt. Blake?” he asked.

“Hmmmm? Oh, no, I don’t. I met someone with the same last name once. But it was a long time ago.” She smiled at him. “This is great Andrew. How soon will you write back?”

“Tonight!” he grinned.

She laughed. “Okay. I think that’s a great idea.”

Over the following weeks, the kids in the wing had been mailing and received dozens of letters from the soldiers. Clarke always stopped by to see Andrew and he always read Bellamy’s letters to her. As Clarke listened to the words of this soldier, she began to picture a young woman, in army fatigues, sitting on her cot and talking about her day. Before she knew it, she had imagined an entire life around this woman named Bellamy Blake, developing a crush on her without even realizing it. Clarke had taken it upon herself to keep the project organized, so even when kids were discharged from the hospital, they could still keep sending letters as a group. She began to add her own short notes and sometimes baked cookies or other treats to send, but always addressed them to Bellamy and signed them simply ‘Dr. C.’ She knew she was being a little ridiculous, but she liked the idea of Bellamy opening her letters and eating a cookie she had made. It made her feel somehow closer to her.

Andrew had been in and out of the hospital in the months that followed and the next time she saw him he motioned her to come sit with him.

“I got a letter from Bellamy again,” he smiled. “It sounds like they’re coming home soon!” He handed the letter to Clarke who looked it over quickly and smiled to herself.

“They are, Andrew,” she said. She looked up from the letter. “You know what? We should host a little party for them here.”  
  
“Okay!” Andrew said excitedly. “Can I come?”  
She laughed. “Of course you can come, Andrew. I think you should be in charge of the decorations. I’ll send an email to Bellamy. It looks like there’s an email address here.” She memorized the address and handed the letter back to him. “This is going to be fun.”

She went back to her desk and began to write. She looked at what she had written. Did it seem to flirty? Too eager? She frowned, considered, and then hit send. Fuck it, what did she have to lose?

******************************************************************************

_Hi Bellamy,_

_I wanted to let you know how much all the kids here have enjoyed getting mail from all of you. It’s been really special to see how such a small thing like a letter can change their whole day and make it brighter. I’ve enjoyed this project too, and getting to know you a little better through the letters you wrote. I would really like to host you and your troop once you get home. The kids thought it would be fun to have a little Christmas party here at the hospital and everyone could finally meet their overseas pen pals. If you like that idea, then let’s chat some more about it. If you want to email me back we can make more plans._

_Looking forward to it,_

_Clarke Griffin a.k.a. Dr. C._

Bellamy opened the email, pausing on the sender name. Clarke Griffin. He felt a pang of sadness as the last name made him think of Jake. He opened the email and smiled as he read it. He’d found himself looking forward more and more to Andrew’s letters and then the doctor had also started writing and even sending some homemade cookies. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he thought at first the doctor might be developing a little crush on him when they started sending such personal responses, and he couldn’t help feeling a little intrigued by that. So he was a little disappointed to see that this doctor was actually a man named Clarke. He’d envisioned a doctor named Christine, or Catherine. Bellamy knew that most of his troop would be happy to participate in a party the kids hosted for them, even Murphy, who was a sarcastic asshole on the surface, but truly had a really big heart and loved kids almost as much as Bellamy did himself.

He tapped out a quick response on his laptop and headed to dinner.

******************************************************************************

_Hi Dr. Griffin,_

_Thanks for sending me an email. I think a party would be really fun. I’d love to meet Andrew and all the other kids. I’m sure my troop is on board. We’re set to be home in about three weeks. Let’s chat about some details._

_Looking forward to it,_

_Bellamy_

Clarke opened the email and was a little disappointed in how short it was. Still, Bellamy seemed interested in coming to visit and meet the kids. She sent a more formal email back, talking about possible dates for the party and a little bit of small talk and hit send.

Over the course of the next three weeks, she and Bellamy exchanged a lot of emails. Some were rushed and brief, but others were more personal. Clarke learned how long Bellamy had been in the army and shared how long she had been a surgeon. Her feelings for the soldier on the other side of the world were developing in spite of her attempts to remind herself that this was just a light flirtation. Since she and Lexa had broken up for good two years earlier, she hadn’t been involved with anyone seriously and she had no interest in a commitment at this point anyway. Still, she enjoyed that little thrill of opening her emails and seeing a new message from Bellamy. And what was the harm in having a little fun?

Three weeks passed and Clarke remained busy with her patients. It was a couple of days before the party when a young woman was brought in through the emergency room when Clarke was on duty. She spent several hours repairing the woman’s wrist and hip after both had been shattered in a motorcycle accident.

Hours later, she was walking down the corridor towards the patient’s room when she saw a tall, brunette man in fatigues come out of the room. She froze, taking in the dark curls, the broad shoulders, the freckles and dark eyes. He was approaching her and she ducked into the nurses’ station, collapsing into a chair and taking deep breaths as her pulse started beating out of control. Her head was spinning and she gripped the edge of the desk. She tried to convince herself it wasn’t him. He was dead. This man just looked a lot like him, that’s all. “It can’t be him,” she whispered like a mantra to herself. “It can’t be him.”

“Excuse me. I’m a friend of Raven Reyes,” she heard him say. His voice was deep, husky and sent a chill up Clarke’s spine. The voice that had calmed her the night she first heard it, the voice she’d heard in her head for the past eight years, the voice of the man she’d considered her future. “I wondered if her doctor was around?”

“Dr. Griffin?” Monty asked. “Yeah, she’s right here.” He poked his head into the nurses’ station.

“Hey Clarke,” he said. “There’s someone here asking for you.” Clarke looked up at Monty and he mouthed the words “and he’s hot!” and grinned at her. She stood up and tried to control her breathing. “It can’t be him,” she whispered to herself. She straightened her white coat and stepped out into the corridor. It was him.

He stepped forward. “You’re Dr. Griffin?” he asked. “I...uh...I thought you were a...” he interrupted himself and extended his hand. “I’m Bellamy Blake. We’ve been emailing back and forth,” he gave her a big smile and she felt faint.

“Shit,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Bellamy looked at Monty, who raised his eyebrows and looked at Clarke.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You’re...Bellamy Blake.”

“Yes. I’m Bellamy Blake,” he said more slowly, confused at why this was so awkward. He looked back to Monty for help and Monty looked again to Clarke. He was now just as confused as Bellamy was.

Blake. Bellamy Blake. Not Bryan Blake. Not the dead young man her mother had shown her a picture of him. And she’s been emailing him for weeks. None of this made any sense. She snapped out of her confusion and panic long enough to shake his hand and give him a small smile. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she squeaked. He gave her a funny look.

“You sure about that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She shook her head. “Yes! I mean, no. I mean...no ghost. Just...yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

Monty blew out a sigh and said “Well, I’m gonna...just go check on some...stuff.” He nodded to Bellamy and then gave Clarke a subtle wink as he walked away.

Clarke looked back to Bellamy, and caught his eyes roaming quickly over her body. “So, you’re here to see Ms. Reyes?”

His eyes snapped back to hers. “Yes ma’am. Raven’s in my platoon,” he said.

She smiled. “Ma’am? You can call me Clarke, please.”

He dipped his head in agreement. “Clarke it is. Raven got a little crazy on her motorcycle last night from what I hear.”

Clarke nodded. “She’s lucky. I was able to repair the damage. It was a long surgery, but she’ll recover. She’s likely going to have a slight limp from it, but maybe she’ll remember to take it a little slower on the mountain roads.”

“Raven? Yeah, she won’t take anything slower,” he laughed. “But I’m glad to hear she’ll recover.” He shifted on his feet. “Do you want to talk for a minute somewhere? About the party?”

“Oh, um, sure,” she said. “Let’s go to my office.” She gestured down the corridor and he walked beside her. She felt the urge to blurt out “I thought you were dead!” all the way down the corridor, but she bit her tongue. She had to be sure and there was someone she needed to talk to before she asked Bellamy about it.

They arrived at her office and she led him in, pointing to a chair. “Please, have a seat,” she said as she pulled her lab coat off and hung it on a hanger. She turned to see Bellamy watching her again and felt a warm wave of arousal begin in her core and flush her cheeks. She hurried to sit behind her desk. He was still staring at her.

“You’re staring,” she finally said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though clearly, he wasn’t. “You’re very pretty.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs.

“The party,” she said. “I think we’re all set on our end. I’m having food catered here. I didn’t think anyone would consider hospital food a real celebration.” She laughed and then felt awkward, not knowing what the hell was going on with her brain. _“Just stop talking for a minute,” she said to herself._

Bellamy smiled. “The soldiers are all bringing gifts for our pen pals. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t think to ask first.” He gave her a sly look. “Sometimes I just...do things without thinking about them. Just because they make me feel good.”

Clarke coughed. “I...uh. I think that’s great. That’s really generous. You didn’t have to do that. Really.”

He leaned forward. “I want to.” His brown eyes were boring into hers. “There’s something else I want to do.”

“Oh?” She said.

“Mmm hmmm,” he replied, smiling at her. “I want to ask you out.”

“Well, I...um,” her mind was racing. “I think I should,” she stopped and took a deep breath. “I really only date women.”

He looked surprised for a split second, smile disappearing, then disappointed. “Oh,” he said. “This is awkward. It’s just, in your emails I felt like you were sort of...interested.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I date both. But lately, just...I’ve been sticking with women...mainly. And honestly, I thought you were a woman. The name Bellamy, I thought it was a woman’s name. I mean, obviously, you’re a man.”

He laughed. “Obviously.”

_Jesus, will you stop talking, Clarke! She said to herself._

He smiled again. “So what I’m hearing, Clarke, is that you’ll consider it?”  
She stood up, prompting him to do the same. “I think we’ll just see each other at the party in a couple of days? Sound good?” she asked.

He grinned at her again. “It sounds great. It’s a date.”

She laughed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “I’m glad you stopped in. It’s good to finally put a face to a name.”

He nodded and extended his hand to her. “It sure is, Clarke Griffin. I’ll see you soon.” She shook his hand and watched as he walked down the corridor.

“Christ,” she said under her breath as she watched him walk away. He was every bit as gorgeous as she remembered. Maybe more so. Had his ass been that perfect eight years ago?

As soon as he was gone, she stepped out of her office and headed down the hall in the opposite direction. There was someone she needed answers from and she wasn’t about to wait any longer. She knocked loudly on Abby’s door and pushed the door open without waiting for a reply.

Abby wasn’t in her office. Clarke pulled out her phone and angrily punched out a text to her.

“Where are you? We need to talk.” She waited. A few minutes passed before Abby replied.

“In a meeting. I’ll be a while.” Clarke fumed.

“In your office. I’ll wait.” She responded. She threw herself into a chair and then a second later got up and paced the floor. She bent over Abby’s desk and glanced over the framed photos she kept there. She picked one up. It was of her and Abby when Clarke was about ten. She remembered that day. Halloween. She had wanted to dress up as Vincent van Gogh. Her mom had insisted dressing up a doctor would be so much better. Clarke shook her head at her younger self.

“You should have pitched a bigger fit,” she said the girl in the picture. “She’s been controlling your life ever since.” She slammed the photo back on the desk and walked to the window and looked outside. How many years had it been since her accident? Nearly eight? And every day in that eight years, her mother had chosen to keep a secret from her. A secret that could have changed her life, that would have prevented so much of what she had been trying to escape ever since. “God damn it, mom,” she whispered out the window. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Abby said from the doorway.

Clarke turned and took a deep breath. “Hi mom.”

“You said you needed to talk, Clarke. I’m in a hurry, so what do you need?” Abby said briskly, setting a cup of coffee down on her desk and taking off her lab coat.

“Remember I told you about the kids who were writing to soldiers?” Clarke asked.

“Yes,” Abby responded.

“One of the boys I know has been writing to a Lieutenant for a while now.”

“Okay.”

“He came by just now so I finally got to meet him.” Clarke said, still talking slowly, trying to control her anger. “It turns out he’s someone I think you might know.”

“For god’s sake, Clarke. If there’s a point to this story, spit it out. I have work to do!” Abby said, sipping her coffee and sitting down behind her desk.

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said flatly. “Remember him?”

Abby put her mug down on the desk and sat very still for a minute before responding. “I think he might have been under your father’s command at one point.”

Clarke stared at her in disbelief. “So is that how you know him? That explains one part of this mystery. The second part is why the hell you told me he was dead?”

Abby put her hands flat on her desk and considered her daughter. “Clarke, you had been in an accident. A serious one. You were healing and you needed to spend some time dealing with the loss of Wells.”

“Cut the bull shit, mom!” Clarke shouted. She started to break down in tears. “I told you how I felt about him. You knew how important it was for me to see him. You don’t think that would have helped me heal?” Her voice broke. “How could you?”

Abby sighed. “I did what I thought was best. I don’t know how much you know about Bellamy so let me fill you in. His mother was a junkie, and probably a prostitute. He grew up in a rough neighborhood around a lot of very bad people.”

Clarke was shaking her head. “I knew about his mom. He told me the night we met. That has nothing to do with who he is.” Tears were welling up in her eyes so she wiped them off with her sleeve. “You didn’t want me to see him again. I need to know why. And don’t tell me about his fucking mother. I don’t think he or I need to be judged by who our mothers are,” she snapped, somewhat satisfied at the hurt expression on Abby’s face

“He’s a sniper, you know,” Abby said quietly. “Did you happen to talk to him about that? He is exceptional at killing. I would think as a doctor you might have a problem with someone who takes pride in that skill.”

Clarke finally sat down in the chair opposite her mom. “You hate him. I don’t understand why and I don’t care. But what you’ve done is unforgivable. I don’t care if he’s a sniper. I don’t care if his mom was an addict. I do care that you chose to purposely deceive me and make me believe he was dead. Deleting his picture wasn’t an accident was it? You chose to lie to me and to keep that lie going for eight years! Eight fucking years Mother!!” She shook her head.

“Clarke, I can assure you that Bellamy Blake will not give you anything close to the life you want. The life you deserve. A military wife is not something you want to be. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” she smirked. “That is something I won’t be doing ever again. And how do you know anything about what I want? You’ve never asked me what I want, never cared what I want and never listened to me when I tried to tell you what I want. It’s always been about what you want for me! I suppose you want to see me end up with someone like Cage Wallace?”

Abby threw her hands up. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that. He’s handsome, he’s wealthy, he was very interested in you. He still asks about you, in fact.”

Clarke frowned. “Did I ever tell you about my date with Cage?” Abby shook her head. “He took me to the symphony. Didn’t ask if I like the symphony, by the way. So, we sat and listened to Beethoven for two goddamned hours.”

Abby started to interject, but Clarke yelled “I hate the symphony! And then we went to a late dinner. And he ordered for me. Didn’t ask if I like white or red wine, didn’t ask how I like my steak, or if I even eat steak. Not a fucking word to try and learn about me. He spoke about himself the entire time. So I never called him back because I already had one person in my life controlling everything I did and I sure as hell didn’t need another.” She stood up and pointed her finger at Abby. “Dad would have approved of Bellamy,” she started to tear up again. “You know, I thought fate had just played a cruel game with me, but it turns out, it was my own mother all along! And you don’t have a say in what I do with my life, or who I spend time with. Ever again.” She stormed out of the office, leaving the door open. Abby didn’t try to stop her.


	6. Hit Him Like a Freight Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their paths have finally crossed again, but only Clarke knows that they crossed once before. She has to decide if she wants the past to stay in the past or let Bellamy know the truth. But little does she know that fate has another twist in store before she can make that decision.

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy pulled his truck up to the curb in front of Miller’s house and walked up the walkway. Miller was already sitting on his porch, waiting for him.

“Good to be home?” Bellamy asked, taking a chair next to his friend, who handed him a cold beer.

“It sure is,” he responded.

They tipped their beers together and each took a long swig, watching the sun lower in the trees. The air was crisp and cool. Bellamy turned his collar up and stretched his legs out in front of him. They shared a long moment of contented silence that Miller was the first to break.

“I met someone,” he said.

Bellamy glanced at him and smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

Miller smiled back. “Yeah, through the pen pal program. A doctor at the hospital named Jackson. We emailed back and forth a bit. I went and met him a couple of days ago.” He took another swig of beer. “I gotta say, it was instant sparks.”

Bellamy laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. He better treat you right or I’ll pay him a visit.”

Miller snorted. “I’ll be sure and tell him that.”

Bellamy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I...may have met someone, too.”  
Miller stopped his bottle midway to his lips. “Go on.”

“Don’t laugh. But she’s also a doctor at the hospital that I’ve been emailing. She operated on Reyes. I met her today for the first time. She wasn’t what I expected.”

  
“What were you expecting?” Miller asked.

“A man, for one thing,” Bellamy laughed. “Which she definitely isn’t. She’s fucking gorgeous. I asked her out.”

“And?”

“She said no,” Bellamy said. “But I think she’ll come around.”

Miller snorted. “I believe you.” He could tell his friend had something else to say about this woman so he waited.

Bellamy sighed. “This is the first time I’ve felt like really getting to know someone since...” he paused.

Miller stepped in. “Hey, Bell. Look at me.” Bellamy turned his head and locked eyes with Miller.

“I’m one of your best friends and you know I’ll be honest with you.” Bellamy nodded so Miller continued. “It’s time to stop carrying a torch for...”

“...for a dead girl,” Bellamy said flatly. “I know.”

Miller reached out and put his hand on Bellamy’s arm. “I know you loved her, Bellamy. I know you’ve carried that weight for a long time. But if this new woman makes you feel something, then hell, I think you’re ready to move on. Don’t you?”

Bellamy put his hand on top of Miller’s and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, Nathan. You’re right.”

“So what’s this doctor look like?” Miller asked.

Bellamy smiled. “Short, blond, and curvy.” Miller laughed out loud.

“Shit! Why am I not surprised?” They both laughed for a minute.

Miller got serious again. “I have something else I need to tell you. I’m out. This was my last tour. I’m taking early retirement.”

Bellamy frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I need to be able to stop pretending. I want a future, with someone I love. With someone that I’m allowed to love. It’s time.”

Bellamy leaned back and sighed. “It’s past time, Nathan. You deserve it.”

Miller stood up. “You want another beer?”

“Sure,” Bellamy said. Miller went inside and Bellamy sat and considered what Miller had said. He agreed. It was time to move on. And he was more determined than ever that Clarke Griffin was going on a date with him.

*****************************************************************************

Monty looked up from his desk at the nurses’ station to see Clarke standing in front of him, her brow furrowed.

“Clarke, what’s up?” he asked.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, coming out from behind the station and following her to her office. She shut the door behind him and gestured for him to sit down.

“Um, is everything okay?” he asked, now concerned.

Clarke lowered herself into her chair and sighed heavily.

“Do you remember the story I told you about a man I met once, a long time ago?” she began.

Monty sat silently for a minute and reeled through all their past conversations, finally nodding. “The man you thought was your future? The night before your accident. And then he was killed overseas?” he said as she nodded.

“It was Bellamy Blake,” she said bluntly. “The man who was here to visit his friend yesterday.”

Monty opened and closed his mouth, then opened it again. “I...don’t understand.”

  
“I don’t either, honestly,” she said. “My mother lied to me about his death. He’s clearly not dead. He lives in the same town, and I’ve never run into him before now?” She threw her hands up.

“Well that explains why you were acting so weird yesterday. So, did you tell him who you were?” Monty asked.

Clarke was chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she had when she felt an impending panic attack. She shook her head.

“But...you’re going to tell him, right?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what I was going to ask you. What do you think?”  
“What do I think? Clarke, one of the first times you opened up to me was when you told me about this man that you thought you fell in love with and lost. I’ve been watching you struggle to find anyone that compares to him in your mind for...how long have I known you?”

“Five years,” she said.

“Yeah, so my opinion is you should absolutely tell him.”

“But, here’s what I was thinking,” she said. “I was going to meet him the night of my accident. I never showed up, obviously. So he thinks I just stood him up. I was really drunk that night, I was angry because I just caught my boyfriend cheating. I was dressed in a ridiculous costume. And I made a complete ass out of myself by practically begging him to take me home with him.”

Monty raised his eyebrows. “Mmmm,” was all he offered.

“So maybe I can just, start fresh? I mean, he clearly didn’t recognize me, so I don’t think I made as big an impression on him anyway. Maybe I can just act like that whole night never happened?”

Monty was shaking his head before she even finished. “You can’t do that Clarke. You can’t act like that night never happened. You’ve described it to me as one of the single most important nights of your life. Drunk or not, that man made enough of an impression on you that you still aren’t over him. I think he deserves to know that. Don’t you?”

She sighed and considered his words for a long time. “You’re right.” She smiled at him. “You’re always right.”

“I know,” he said, grinning. He stood up. “So when he comes to the party, you’ll tell him?”  
Clarke stood too. “Maybe not at the party. I want to have time to sit down and do it the right way and without a lot of people around.”

“Well, don’t wait too long,” Monty said.

“I won’t. He asked me on a date already. I think I’ll say yes,” she said, making the decision in her mind at the same moment she announced it to Monty.

****************************************************************************

Clarke was running a bit late, as usual. She had spent a little longer in front of the mirror than she typically did. She’d even changed into three different dresses before she’d decided on the blue one she now wore. It accented her narrow waist and was just low cut enough to be sexy, but not too sexy for an event with children present. She hopped out of her car and rushed into the pediatric wing, smiling when she saw a room full of service men and women in their army Greens, the men holding their hats under their arms. She scanned the room and saw him, standing and talking to Andrew. He was fully engaged in what the boy was saying, laughing and nodding at whatever Andrew had said. He really was every bit as gorgeous as she remembered and the way he looked in that unform made her feel weak in the knees. She had already made the decision to accept his offer of a date and that would be when she told him who she was. But now she felt her nerves build as she approached him. She took a deep breath and smiled when he looked up at her. His brown eyes danced across her face and down her body, clearly impressed by the sight of her in a dress. She inwardly congratulated herself on choosing the blue one.

“Hi!” she said. She bent down and gave Andrew a hug. “So you two finally met!”

Andrew was beaming. “This is Bellamy,” he said. “Bellamy, this is my doctor. Doctor C.”

Bellamy smiled. “We met already, Andrew. I have a friend in the hospital that Dr. C operated on. And you know what? She couldn’t have asked for a better doctor. You’re both lucky you’re in such good hands.” Andrew smiled and nodded, watching as the two adults were staring at each other.

“Bellamy got me a present,” he said loudly, hoping they would stop staring at each other and look back at him. Clarke laughed and looked around for a chair to sit in. Bellamy leapt to the nearest one and pulled it over for her. She sat down so she was level with Andrew.

“Are you going to open it?” she asked. He nodded and began tearing away the paper. His face lit up when he saw the iPad inside.

“What?” he yelled. “Are you kidding me?”

Bellamy laughed. “No, sir. I hope you don’t already have one.” He looked at Clarke and watched her run her hand tenderly through Andrew’s hair. His heart gave a little lurch.

“I’ve never had anything this cool!” Andrew cried. Then his face fell. “But...I don’t think I can keep it.”

Bellamy frowned. “Why not?”

“Cause it cost a lot of money, didn’t it?” Andrew said.

“Hey,” Bellamy squatted down in front of Andrew. “It didn’t cost that much. And you know what? You did me a big favor.”  
“I did?” The small boy looked at Bellamy. “What did I do?”

“Well, it gets really hard to be away from home for so long. And I was having a really bad day where I was just homesick and feeling sorry for myself. And then your letter showed up. I got to read all about the park I remembered, and I started to think about things I liked again. So, I started really looking forward to those letters. They really helped me. You don’t know how happy it made me.” He looked up at Clarke. “And then Dr. C started sending me cookies, and her own letters.” He gave her a big grin. “And then before I knew it, it was time to come home. Also, you know how I told you in my letters that I don’t have a big family? Just a sister? Well, now I feel like you’re a part of my family, too. So, I think I should be able to give someone in my family a nice Christmas present, don’t you?”

Andrew nodded solemnly. “Okay, I guess when you put it like that. Since we’re family.” He flung his arms around Bellamy’s neck and hugged him. “Thanks.”

Bellamy hugged him back. “You’re welcome, Andrew. Merry Christmas.”

Clarke stood up from her chair, overcome with emotion. “I uh...I have some presents to give the kids, too. They’re in my office. Maybe you could help me bring them out?” She looked pointedly at Bellamy, who rose up from the floor.

“At your service Ma’am,” he said. “Andrew, we’ll be back in a minute.” Andrew was already unpacking the iPad and nodded without saying anything. They walked past Monty who was talking to a soldier named Harper.

“Monty, I’ll be right back. We’re going to my office for some things,” Clarke said as they walked past. Monty raised his eyebrows at her and then gave her a little wink. 

“Whatever you say, Doc,” he said.

Clarke led Bellamy out of the wing and down the corridor to her office. She was about to do something utterly unlike her. She was about to take a risk. 

Bellamy was walking close beside her and cleared his throat. “I have a question,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

“You told me you only date women, but you’ve dated men before. Why only women now?”

She stopped and faced him. “I’ve had better luck with women. I’m not...it’s just hard. I haven’t had a lot of good experiences with men. But I really liked your emails. And the way you are with Andrew, it’s really sweet. So, I thought I’d give you a second chance.”  
  
His eyes lit up. God, his eyes, those freckles. _Calm down, Clarke_ , she told herself.

“I get another chance?” he asked. “So, if I ask you out again?”  
She bit her lower lip and nodded.

He ran his hands through his hair and blew out a sigh. “Well that’s...that’s great!” He moved in closer to her. She could smell his skin, see his pulse beating in his throat, and a wave of heat rose from her core. She swallowed hard. _You want him, Clarke. You know it. He knows it. Just..._

“So, come in my office, let’s get the presents. We’ll talk about where you want to take me on our date.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned. “Lead the way.”

Clarke unlocked the door to her office and turned to find Bellamy watching her. He took two steps forward, shut the door behind him and pulled her to him, leaning in to kiss her. She only hesitated for a brief second before reaching her arms around his neck and tilting her head back as his lips found hers. He kissed her deeply, then pulled away and gave her a strange look.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Nothing. That was just...”  
“Shhh,” she said, pulling him in again. She could feel his erection through his pants and he moaned softly as his tongue explored her mouth. Her own desire had reached a fever pitch and she lowered her hands to try to unbuckle his belt. He put his own hand over hers to stop her with a gentle laugh.

“Last time I saw you, you said you didn’t date men anymore. Are you sure you want this?”

The smell of his skin, the heat coming off his body when it was this close to her was making Clarke lightheaded with desire.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” she responded, reaching for his belt again.

“Shhhhh. Slow down,” he whispered. “I want to take my time with you.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her slowly, reaching up to start unzipping her dress. “I need to get you out of this first.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Because,” he kissed her lightly on one bare shoulder as he slipped the dress down. “I intend to ruin you for any other woman or man. I’d hate to ruin this beautiful dress in the process.”

She inhaled sharply. “Okay,” she said, barely above a whisper. She stepped out of the dress and laid it across a chair. She started to step out of her heels and Bellamy put his hand to her waist.

“You can leave those on,” he said, his voice husky. It sent a thrill through her entire body. His hands travelled slowly down and his fingers toyed with the lace edge of her panties. He looked down, his forehead touching hers. “These are nice,” he whispered, “but I want them off, too.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them slowly down over her hips, letting her step out of them one foot at a time as she undid her bra and let it drop to the floor. Standing in front of him completely naked while he was still in uniform was one of the most arousing experiences of her life. He stepped back and let his eyes travel up and down her body while she stood perfectly still. She almost moaned in agony when he ran his tongue lightly across his lower lip and looked at her like he wanted to devour her. He walked to her desk and shoved everything over to the far end, then picked her up by the waist and sat her down on it. Maneuvering himself between her legs, he took her two hands in his. She was vibrating with desire and when he brought one hand to his mouth and put two of her fingers between his lips, she let out a little ‘oh’ sound that made him smile. He sucked her fingers, working his tongue around each one before pulling them out slowly and doing the same with her other hand.

“Open your legs, Clarke,” he whispered. She spread her knees wider as Bellamy guided her hands down to her cunt. “I want you to show me what you like. Show me how you want to be touched,” he said. He backed up and Clarke kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the desk, continuing to touch herself as Bellamy started to unbutton his jacket, his eyes never leaving her hands. She closed her eyes and put two fingers inside herself, using her other hand to work her clit. Bellamy laid his jacket on the chair on top of her dress. Clarke watched through half-closed eyes as he pulled his Tshirt over his head and began unbuckling his belt. Her gaze traveled over his muscular shoulders and biceps, his sculpted abs, his beautiful brown skin and the dark line of hair below his navel leading down his abdomen. She let out a little sigh of pleasure.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his shaking voice was evidence of his own desire. He kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants, approaching her and putting his hands on her knees. She moaned softly as he ran his large hands down the inside of her thighs, parting her legs wider as he knelt between them.

She almost cried out when he first put his mouth to her clit. She gripped the sides of her desk as he took two fingers from each hand and opened her cunt enough to pierce it with his tongue. He reached up and grabbed her thighs, pulling her whole body closer to him so he could more fully work her open, his tongue hot and deep inside her and then running up to her clit to keep her stimulated to the point of insanity.

There was a sudden knock on the door and she almost leaped off the desk if not for Bellamy holding tight to her thighs.

“Clarke?” Monty called from the other side of the door. “Are you...coming back soon?”

“Yes, Monty,” she called back then cried out as Bellamy stuck two fingers inside her and began sucking her clit hard. “I’m...uh... ahhhh. Soon.” She grabbed Bellamy’s hair and felt him smile against her cunt.

Monty heard the unmistakable sounds of passion on the other side of the door, turned and walked back down the corridor, a grin slowly forming on his face. “About damn time,” he said to himself.

“You’re cruel,” Clarke said, half-laughing, half-sighing in pleasure as Bellamy began fucking her harder with his fingers, his tongue working its way inside her at the same time. She bucked her hips upwards and cried out as her orgasm began to build.

“Cruel?” he asked. “I think cruel would be if I stopped. Do you want me to stop, Clarke?”

“No!” she cried.

“You sure?” He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, pressing down on her clit and massaging it gently. He put his forearm across her hips, pinning her to the desk as he worked his fingers back inside her.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she whimpered.

“Then move for me,” he said. He put his mouth back on her clit and bit her gently as his fingers curled inside her. She squirmed under his arm, trying not to scream as her climax consumed her. He continued to hold her down and keep his mouth on her as she writhed under him, only releasing her when her breathing slowed down.

She was nearly limp from her release, and she moved her head to watch him step out of his boxers, watched him fumble for his wallet in his pants that were on the floor. He stood and began rolling a condom on. Her eyes widened when she saw his erection. His cock was huge and she hadn’t been with a man in over two years. He saw her staring at it and smiled.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Bellamy,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can...I haven’t...it’s been a long time. You’re really...big.”

He walked over to her and stood between her legs, leaned down to put his elbows on the desk on either side of her. She could feel the head of his cock near her entrance and she started breathing hard.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

She nodded. “I just think it might hurt.”

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “If you need to stop at any time you just say so, okay? Trust me. Just tell me what you’re feeling.” He cupped her breast in his right hand and ran his thumb back and forth over her nipple, making it harden under his touch as he bit her earlobe gently, then began planting light kisses along her neck, her collar bone, and her other breast. He took his time there, running his tongue in a circle around her nipple before he closed his mouth over it and sucked gently as Clarke ran her hands into his hair and held him there. His hand traveled down slowly, his fingers feather light as they traced a line around her rib cage, across her abdomen and between her legs. When he pressed his fingers to her clit, she bucked her hips up and pulled his hair harder.

“What are you feeling, Clarke?” he whispered.

“I want you,” she gasped.

“I know.” He dipped two fingers in and out of her cunt, making her whimper. “I’ve never felt a pussy more eager for my cock than this one,” he said, pushing his fingers inside her again. “You’re so wet, so ready. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“Bellamy!” she cried.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice more demanding as he curled his fingers inside her again. She bucked her hips again.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said. He pulled his fingers from her again and positioned his cock at her entrance. She gasped as he began to push himself inside her, gentle but insistent. He stopped once the head was fully in and lowered himself onto his elbows, his face close to hers. He watched her eyes widen as he pushed further, stopping when half of his shaft was inside. His breathing was shallow and hitching and she could tell he was using every bit of self-control he had as she slowly stretched to accommodate him. He pulled out slowly and stopped, smiling as she squirmed and raised her hips, offering herself to him. 

“Please,” she whimpered.

“All of it?” he asked.

She nodded and cried out as he drove himself into her, a low animal moan escaping his throat when he was fully seated. He willed himself to stay still, to just focus on how unbelievable it felt to have his cock surround by her heat. He stroked her hair, covered her face with light kisses.

“God, you feel good,” he panted, tilting his hips forward just enough to send another aching wave of desire coursing through her. Clarke sighed in pleasure. “You feel that?” he asked. “Your body was made for me.” She nodded, feeling like she would lose her mind if she didn’t completely consume this man, and when he lowered himself even closer to her, she brought her mouth to his shoulder and bit him on the collar bone. He inhaled sharply and moaned.

“Did I hurt you?” she whispered. She felt him smile against her cheek.

“Do it again,” he whispered back. “Harder this time.” She bit down hard, and he groaned in pleasure.

“Hold onto me,” he huffed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her ankles around his waist as he rose to a standing position, keeping her impaled on his cock. He had both hands firmly grasping her just above her hips, waiting for guidance from her. She squeezed her thighs against his body as hard as she could, raising herself partly off him before sliding back down. Bellamy planted his feet wide apart and helped her raise herself off him before he pulled her back down with force. She threw her head back and moaned as he lost his fight for self-control. He lifted her up until he was almost all the way out and slammed her back down onto his hips, thrusting upward at the same time. He held her in a vice grip, controlling her body as he moved her up and down like she weighed nothing, at the same time pistoning his own hips to maneuver himself as deep into her as he could.

“God, Clarke. You’re making me crazy,” he huffed.

“Good,” she said. Her cunt was so slick with desire, she couldn’t believe she’d been afraid this would hurt. She wanted more, so she began grinding her hips against him, encouraging him to use her as roughly as he wanted to. “I want you crazy.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, taking a step forward and pressing her back to the wall. She reached one hand up into his hair and yanked his head back, hard.

“Yeah,” she gasped. His eyes grew black with lust and he began fucking her against the wall, each thrust of his hips bringing them both closer to the edge. Bellamy wrapped one arm around her waist and put one hand against the wall, allowing him to fuck her even more brutally. Clarke clung to him for dear life as her orgasm began to build and consume every nerve in her body. He fucked her all the way through her own orgasm and as she came down she could tell his own climax was building. He put his forehead against the wall and drove himself into her with a blind abandon, feeling like his body, his heart, his soul was going to come apart if he didn’t give every bit of them to the woman who was now cleaving to him like she was drowning. He came with a shudder and immediately wrapped both arms around her and carried her back to the desk where he laid her down gently, his legs about to buckle underneath him.

He remained inside her, both of them content with being completely connected to one another.

He raised up on his elbows again and stroked her face gently. “I don’t want to let go,” he said softly. “You’re incredible.”

She smiled and ran her hands up his back and pulled him close. “Don’t let go, then. Just stay.”

“What about the party?” He asked. “I’m pretty sure they’ve noticed by now that you’ve been gone for a while.”

She sighed. “I know. But promise me one thing.”  
“Anything,” he said.

“We’re still going on a date,” she said.

He looked at her tenderly. “That’s the easiest promise I’ll ever make, Clarke. We are definitely going on a date.” He kissed her gently on the lips and pulled out of her slowly. She immediately felt so empty without him inside her, she wanted to cry. He stood and took her hands, helping her off the desk before stepping into the small bathroom that connected to her office. When he came back, his hair was damp and he began pulling his clothes on. Clarke reluctantly did the same, turning so he could zip her dress back up. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it down.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Like you’ve been well and truly fucked,” he laughed, as he reached up and smoothed out a spot of her tousled hair . “And also stunningly beautiful.” 

She laughed. “I guess it’s time to head back then.” She turned to go and he took her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Clarke,” he said. “I need to say something. I’m not very good at...uh...” he faltered. She waited, squeezing his hand gently which gave him courage to continue. “I feel like it’s fate...that we met. There’s something about you that just feels...right to me.”

Clarke swallowed, almost ready to tell him that she had felt that too, the first time they met eight years ago. But the time didn’t seem right. She wanted to be on an actual date, to set the stage for this conversation that she had played over and over in her head so many times. So instead, she just nodded. “It feels right to me too, Bellamy.” He grinned and nodded.

They collected the presents they had come to the office for. They were both laughing as Clarke kept piling more gifts into Bellamy’s arms until he could barely see over them. They began walking back down the corridor towards the pediatric wing. When they were halfway there, Bellamy stopped.

Clarke turned to look at him and saw a strange expression on his face. He seemed concerned about something, as if he had been alerted to some unknown threat.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked. He shushed her and remained still. His expression changed from concentration to alarm. Clarke heard it at that instant as well. A quiet, creaking rattle. The sound of metal shifting? She shook her head and remained silent.

They both felt it at the same time, a tiny shift on the floor beneath them. They looked at each other.

“Earthquake,” Clarke said first. Bellamy cocked his head towards the pediatric wing.

“That part of the building is shifting,” he said. “We need to get all those people evacuated.  
He dropped the armful of presents on the floor, grabbed Clarke’s hand and started sprinting down the corridor, practically dragging Clarke close behind him. 

They reached the double doors of the wing and Bellamy flung them open. No one inside had noticed the noises, or the tremor. They were still laughing, talking, and eating. Bellamy spotted Murphy, Miller, Harper and Monty gathered together by a table of food. He ran to them and hissed in a loud whisper.

“Earthquake! We need to get everyone out of here!”

They didn’t hesitate. Harper started instructing the other soldiers to escort everyone out of the wing. Murphy grabbed the nearest two kids and led them to the doorway, pointing to the corridor. They ran. Murphy moved back into the room just as some debris started falling from the ceiling. The lights flickered and children and medical staff began screaming as the soldiers sprang into action, quickly grabbing children and leading them out of the wing. Miller was pushing a child on a gurney, followed by Monty who was doing the same. Harper and Murphy continued to help children who were mobile towards the doorway. 

Clarke rushed around the room, gathering children. A little girl ran up to her and clung to her.

“We have to get you out of here, okay?” she yelled over the noise that was now surrounding them. She looked up to see the ceiling start to give way and shouted. “Run!” Miller had seen the same thing and sprinted to the doorway, grabbing the overhead jamb and preventing it from collapsing on top of the people running through it. Bellamy was closer to the door than Clarke. He looked back at her and his eyes grew wide in terror.

“Clarke!” he screamed. “You need to move. Now!” He joined Miller at the door way and put his own arms up as more and more debris fell around them. Clarke picked the girl up and moved to door, stepping over concrete and wood rubble. She got through the doorway just as Miller let go and rolled to safety.

There was a small sound, like a child crying and Clarke turned her head as she placed the girl on the ground.

“Is that everyone?” Bellamy gasped. His arms were shaking from the effort.  
“I heard something,” Clarke said. “I need to go back.”  
“Clarke,” he croaked. “I can’t hold this up much longer.”  
She bolted inside. Just inside the doorway, Andrew was choking, crying, blinded by dust. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. As they cleared the doorway, she looked back to Bellamy.

“Let go!” she shouted.

The door began to completely sag and Bellamy stumbled. Clarke grabbed his hand and tried to pull him the rest of the way through but the door beam fell on his leg, trapping him. Miller ran to help, trying to lift the beam so Clarke could pull him free. More debris was raining down on them.

“Miller, get her out of the way!” Bellamy was screaming. “Now! That’s an order!”

Miller hesitated for split second, then let go of the beam and grabbed Clarke. She screamed at him. “NO! Let go of me!” She was still reaching for Bellamy.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I may not be able to keep our date.” He was still struggling to free himself as Miller yanked her out of the way of the ceiling as the entire thing caved in. Clarke watched in horror as Bellamy disappeared under a pile of debris and a cloud of dust.


	7. He Woke Up, The Room Was Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Bellamy surviving the earthquake, Clarke is faced with a future full of uncertainty. Will she tell him who she really is? His road to recovery will be long, but she has a plan to help him.

***********************************************************************************************************************

“Bellamy!” Clarke screamed. She was straining against Miller’s hold around her waist, watching in horror as more debris came down on the spot they had last seen him. “Bellamy!” she screamed again. All the children and medical personnel had retreated to the other end of the corridor. Only Clarke, Murphy, Miller and Harper were still standing near the collapse. Murphy was the first to move. He sprinted towards the spot where the doorway used to be and started picking up chunks of concrete and flinging them to the side.

“I need help over here!” he shouted. Harper and Miller joined him and began scrambling through the pile of debris as quickly as they could. Clarke dropped to the ground and began using her hands to scrape away the smaller fragments on the floor, her eyes frantically searching the rubble for any sign of Bellamy. She gasped as her hand found something under the dirt. She began scraping faster and within a few seconds had uncovered one of Bellamy’s hands. All four of them saw it at the same time. His fingers flexed and curled.

“He’s alive!” Miller shouted. He started moving the debris double time, along with Murphy as Harper joined Clarke on the floor, scraping the dirt away to reveal his arm, his chest, and eventually his head. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and barely conscious, but alive.

“Bellamy,” Clarke cried. “Can you hear me? We’re going to get you out. Just stay still.”

She began gently brushing the dust off of his face and he opened his eyes just slightly. His gaze was unfocused and he didn’t say anything. He coughed sharply and blood gushed from his mouth. Clarke cradled his head.

“You stay with me, Bellamy,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t.” Tears were falling down her cheeks and onto his chest. Miller and Murphy had by this time uncovered the rest of his body and Miller knelt next to Clarke.

“We need to try to pull him out,” he said. Clarke shifted out of the way and Miller put his arms gently under Bellamy’s shoulders and started trying to pull him free. Bellamy’s eyes flew open wide and he screamed in pain. Miller stopped immediately and Murphy moved over to where Bellamy’s leg was trapped under a section of the door jamb. He tried to lift it and it wouldn’t budge. Harper joined him and the two could barely lift it, but as it inched upward, Miller continued to pull Bellamy free. Bellamy groaned in agony as his leg was finally out from under the debris. Clarke rushed back to his side and crouched on the floor next to him. She was running her hands down his chest, his uniform now in tatters. Not seeing any traumatic injuries to his upper body, she searched lower, her eyes resting on the leg that had been trapped. She had to fight her panic as she saw that his right calf was clearly broken and his left leg was completely crushed.

“We need a gurney!” She yelled. Murphy sprinted down the corridor and located the remaining emergency staff who came running with a gurney, which they lowered as close to him as possible. Murphy, Miller and two nurses positioned themselves on each side of Bellamy. Harper was sitting with her back to the wall and it was only then that Clarke noticed she was also bleeding from a gaping wound in her side.

“Monty!” she screamed. Monty appeared out of nowhere and Clarke gestured to Harper. “Help her,” she directed. Monty crouched in front of Harper as Miller and the others prepared to lift Bellamy.

“Count of three,” Miller said. “One, two, three,” they lifted him onto the gurney and Bellamy gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Once he was on the gurney they raised it up and began rolling him towards the ER.

The collapsed section of the building was dark. Miraculously, the newer building was on a separate electrical and plumbing system and all the patients were being shuttled over through a long, glass breezeway. The sound of sirens in the background grew louder as fire trucks approached the building.

Miller turned to Murphy. “We need to let Octavia know.”

“On it,” Murphy said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

Clarke ran alongside the gurney, holding Bellamy’s hand. “Bellamy, you’re going to be okay,” she said. “Can you hear me?” He rolled his head towards her voice and gave a small nod.

“We need to determine if he has internal bleeding and get him stabilized,” the nurse said. Clarke nodded her agreement.

“The leg needs attention as soon as possible. I’m sure I can save it. I just need you to hurry, get X-Rays and get him stable.” The nurse nodded and they pushed the gurney through the double doors and down the corridor. Clarke stopped walking, knowing from experience that too many people in a room made for more chaos and she was on the verge of a panic attack. She retreated into a restroom just outside the ER treatment room they had taken Bellamy and sat down on the floor near the sink. Her vision was diminishing to a pin prick, her head felt like it was floating off her shoulders, and she couldn’t will her body to move. “Just breathe,” she thought to herself. “He needs you. You can’t do this right now.” She forced herself to grab the edge of the sink and pull herself up from the floor. Turning the spigot on, she reached into the stream of water and splashed cold water on her face several times, then stared at herself in the mirror. “Get your shit together, Clarke,” she said to her reflection. She stood up, took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

As she walked toward the OR, she saw her mother approach her. Abby opened her arms to embrace Clarke as she came towards her.

“Clarke, thank God you’re alright,” she said. Clarke gave her a quick hug and kept moving.

“I need to get in there,” she said curtly. “Bellamy needs me.”

“Bellamy?” Abby said. “What happened?” She sprinted to keep up with Clarke, shouldering her way through the patients and medical staff that were still milling around in a combination of confusion and panic.

“We were evacuating the pediatric wing. The building...” Clarke took a deep, shuddering breath. “Part of the building collapsed on him,” she sobbed. She furiously wiped tears away from her face. “One of his legs is broken and the other leg is crushed. And I can fix it. I need to take care of him. I need to be with him now.”

Abby grabbed her shoulder and made her pause. “Clarke! Look at me.” Clarke hesitated and met her mother’s eyes.

“You are having a panic attack,” Abby stated. “You’re in no condition to be performing surgery.”

Clarke shook her head and glared at her mother. “I can handle it. I’m fine.” She was about to argue further when the emergency surgeon walked up.

“He’s stable. At least...enough for you to work on his legs,” he said. “He had a collapsed lung and a couple of broken ribs. A few deep lacerations. I cleaned him and stitched him up. He’s all yours. He’s on his way to OR 319.”

Abby started to protest, but Clarke tore her arm out of her mother’s grasp and sprinted towards the OR.

Bellamy was surrounded by surgical staff and Clarke rushed through her surgery prep, pulling a gown on over her blue dress that was now ripped and covered in blood. As she approached him, the nurse by his head stepped aside so Clarke could talk to him. He was heavily sedated but his eyelids fluttered when she whispered his name.

“Bellamy, can you hear me?” she asked.

He dipped his head in a small nod. He was trying to say something and she put her ear close to his lips.

“Kids” he rasped.

“They’re all okay.” Clarke fought back tears. “We got them all out thanks to you. We’re going to put you under now, Bellamy,” Clarke told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Mmm...” he started. “Leg. Is it? Walk?”

“Shhhh. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to save your leg. You’re going to walk again. I promise.”

The two nurses near Clarke exchanged glances. A surgeon never made promises to a patient.

Bellamy closed his eyes again and nodded. Clarke looked to the anesthesiologist and gave a quick nod to begin. Bellamy was unconscious in seconds and Clarke got to work.

Twelve hours later, blood soaked and exhausted, she emerged from the operating room. It had been the most complicated procedure she had ever performed but she had saved his leg. Bellamy would walk again. She pulled her surgeon’s gown off, threw it in the bin, along with her gloves and shoe covers and headed for her office and adjoining shower. It was only when the hot water was running over her and the remainder of Bellamy’s blood was circling the drain that she allowed herself to finally cry. And once she started she couldn’t stop. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed, great heaving sobs that shook her to her core. For several minutes, she sat, her arms wrapped around herself, her breathing shallow and shuddering.

She finally stood and turned the water off, drying off and walking into her office to pull a duffle bag out that she kept for days she needed a change of clothes. She dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater and stuffed her ruined blue dress into the duffle, trying not to think about the way Bellamy had taken it off of her with such care just a few hours earlier. She then rushed back out to see that Bellamy had been settled into his post op room.

************************************************************************************************

_He was holding the soft, yellow fruit in his chubby little fingers, turning it gently back and forth. The long, green leaves tickled his face and he laughed, a high pitched child’s laugh. He was sitting on someone’s shoulders. Someone tall, with dark hair like his own._

_“Pull it hard, son,” the man laughed. He did. The fruit came off in his hand and he squealed with delight. The man lowered him gently to the ground and pulled a small knife from his pocket, unfolding it and beginning to cut into the ripe, yellow fruit.  
  
“It’s a mango,” the man said._

_“Man...go,” he repeated slowly, smiling. He liked the sound of it._

_The man peeled the fruit, juice was dripping down his hand when he handed a slice to him. He closed his eyes in pure pleasure when the sweet flavor hit his tongue._

_“Perfect, right?” the man was grinning at him, eating some of the mango as well._

_“Perfect,” he said._

He opened his eyes slowly, the taste of mango still on his tongue, the man’s face still in his vision. He panicked briefly when he tried to move and found himself intubated, hooked to an IV and his legs immobilized. His heartrate skyrocketed, bringing Monty sprinting in to the room.

“Mr. Blake, you’re okay,” he said in a firm, soothing voice. “You’re coming out of anesthesia. He put a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “We’re taking care of you. Okay?”

Bellamy watched as Monty added something to the IV. He shook his head but Monty didn’t notice.

“This is for pain, ok?” He was talking as he worked. “It might make you drowsy again, but rest is what you need.”

Bellamy wanted to argue but could already feel himself sliding back into unconsciousness.

**************************************************************************************************

Clarke had to stop and collect herself when she first walked in the room. Bellamy looked diminished and pale in his bed, the sheet and lightweight hospital blanket covering him up to his torso. He was still hooked up to a ventilator and an IV. This man, who just hours earlier had made love to her with a strength and passion she had never known before, now looked so vulnerable that she had to fight back tears. _“You’re his doctor, Clarke. He needs you to be his doctor right now. Not some sobbing...what? Girlfriend? Hook up?”_ She shook her head to erase these thoughts and eased into the chair next to him and took his hand in hers. She ran her thumb lightly across the back of his hand and he slowly turned his head and opened his eyes. She scooted closer to him and gently brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes.

“Hey there,” she smiled. He gave her a pained look and tried to speak around the tracheal tube in his mouth. 

“Thirsty?” Clarke asked, knowing this was the first thought on most patients’ minds when they came out of anesthesia. He nodded, his eyes practically begging her to give him some water.

Clarke nodded sympathetically. “I know, but it’s going to be a couple more hours before you can drink anything, I’m afraid. But this will help.” She took a cup of ice chips the nurse had placed on the tray near him and picked one out. She ran it lightly along his lips and he parted them slightly so she could place it onto his tongue. He closed his eyes as the ice melted and nodded his thanks.

He opened his eyes again and she could tell he had another question. She guessed what it would be.

“Your leg will heal, Bellamy. It’s going to be a long process, but it will heal,” she said. His eyes were wet with tears and he seemed embarrassed by that. She pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside stand and dabbed his eyes.

“And you know what else?” she asked. “I think you’re definitely going to be able to take me on that date after all. We may just have to wait a little longer.” She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “You were right, you know.” He looked at her questioningly.

“You did ruin me for any other woman or man.” As his eyes were closing again, she laid her head down near his shoulder, realizing those words had been true for the past eight years.

*************************************************************************************

Clarke woke to a soft touch on her shoulder. Bellamy was asleep with his hand still in hers. She was disoriented and raised her head slowly to turn and find Monty standing beside her, a brunette woman behind him.

“Clarke,” he said softly. “Mr. Blake has a visitor.” He stepped aside and the woman came forward, extending her hand. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Clarke’s brain was still foggy with fatigue.

“Dr. Griffin,” she said. “I’m Octavia Forrester. I’m Bellamy’s sister.”

Clarke stood and shook the sleep from her brain, extending her own hand.

“Please, call me Clarke,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Bella...Mr. Blake was in surgery for several hours. I’m confident in his prognosis. It’ll be a long road to recovery though.” They both looked at Bellamy sleeping and Octavia took the chair that Clarke had just vacated.

Monty excused himself and left Clarke unsure of whether she should stay or go. She turned towards the door and Octavia spoke.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Clarke looked back and Octavia was stroking Bellamy’s head tenderly. She felt a pang of envy, not only because Octavia was sitting where she wanted to be, but also because she had never known that bond that siblings share and she saw it clearly in the way Octavia was gazing at her brother’s sleeping face.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything,” she said and shut the door quietly behind her.

Monty approached her as she rounded the corner. “Clarke, I hope you’re on your way home now?”  
She gave him a tired smile. “Soon, Monty. You should go, too.”

“Leaving now,” he responded. “I was just checking in on Harper before I left.”  
Clarke grinned at him. “Oh? Did you two have fun at the party?”

“Not as much fun as you did,” Monty winked as Clarke blushed furiously.

“Go home,” she chided him, teasingly slapping his arm and then slumping down into a chair behind the nurses’ station.

“Yes, doc. Great job on his leg by the way,” Monty said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Clarke was sitting with her head in her hands and didn’t hear Octavia approach. She cleared her throat quietly and Clarke looked up.

“Hi,” she said, standing up and coming around the desk. Octavia had removed her coat and Clarke could now see that she was visibly pregnant. “Oh! Congratulations!” She gestured to Octavia’s stomach.

“Thanks,” Octavia smiled. “Our second.” She touched her stomach lightly. “Can I ask about what happened? I got a phone call from Murphy. He didn’t give me many details, just told me I needed to get here as soon as I could.”

“Well, you know about the earthquake, obviously,” Clarke began. “We were in the pediatric wing, there was a small Christmas party.”  
  
“Bell told me he was going.” Octavia said. “He was meeting his pen pal,” she gave a little smile.

“Yeah, Andrew was thrilled to meet him,” Clarke said, “so everyone was in there, the kids, the staff, your brother and his unit. And the first tremor happened, we felt it and started evacuating. It all happened so fast, but the building started to just...fall apart. I can’t even describe it really.” She could feel her pulse quicken as she relived the terror of the debris falling around her, of the screaming children. She took a deep breath. “Your brother held the doorway up as long as he could,” her lip started to tremble. “We got everyone out...”

Octavia bit her lower lip and nodded her head. “Yeah, that sounds like Bellamy.” She looked at Clarke. “He doesn’t do it to play the hero. He just...doesn’t know any other way to be. He’s literally the best person I know.”

Clarke thought back to the night she first met him. How he’d approached her table with two glasses of water. How he’d put his jacket around her shoulders. Her emotions were overwhelming her and she put the heels of her palms to her eyes and pressed, taking a deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Octavia asked.

“Yeah, I’m just...tired,” she said. “It was all a little overwhelming. I’m used to the after effects of trauma, but not so much to being in the middle of it all.”

“Totally understandable,” Octavia replied. “Bellamy is still sleeping. I’m going for a bite to eat. Is it okay if I...stay in the room with him?”

Clarke hesitated. It wasn’t really allowed generally.

“I’m the only family he has,” Octavia said. “I don’t want him to be alone. Please?”

Clarke felt a tug in her heart and nodded. “I’ll have a cot sent up,” she said.

Octavia reached out and took Clarke’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot to me.”

Clarke looked down and noticed the watch Octavia was wearing. Something clicked in her memory.

“That’s a beautiful watch,” she said slowly.

“It was from Bellamy,” Octavia said. “It was a...”  
“Graduation gift,” Clarke finished her sentence for her and Octavia gave her a funny look.

“Yeah. It was. How did you know that?”

Clarke shook her head. “I...uh...just. Lucky guess.” _How many years ago had that been? She remembered it clearly. Dinner with Lexa, the girl in the bathroom. He had been right there!_

Octavia kept staring at her. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Clarke was still trying to come to terms with her memories. “Sure. What is it?”

“I know some doctors have better bed side manner than others,” Octavia began. “But you seem to be a lot more...attentive than most?” She gave a little laugh. “I mean, you were asleep and holding my brother’s hand when I walked in, so...is there something else besides the doctor/patient relationship between you two?” She was looking at Clarke expectantly.

What should she say to this woman standing in front of her? _“Well, actually your brother and I were fucking just minutes before the whole building collapsed.”_ Probably not. She settled on a half-truth instead.

“He...ah, asked me out. We met through emails and we’ve been writing back and forth. Part of the children’s outreach to soldiers. I actually just met him a few days ago.”

Octavia was nodding, gauging her response. Her lawyer’s senses were on alert. “And will you?” she asked.

“Will I what?”

“Be going out with him?” Octavia asked.

“Oh. Well, I’m actually his physician at the moment so I think we need to focus on Bellamy’s healing right now, don’t you?”

Octavia smiled. “Dr. Griffin...Clarke. I have a feeling that my brother will heal a lot faster under your care.” She put her hand out again. “I’ll be back a little later. Thanks again for letting me stay with him and for taking such good care of him.”

Clarke shook her hand. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

It was nearly 10:00 in the morning before Clarke finally left the hospital to go home. She had only caught a couple of hours of sleep in Bellamy’s room so she collapsed into her bed in her clothes and didn’t rouse for six more hours. Her cell phone was vibrating on her nightstand and she picked it up, looking at the number through bleary eyes.

“Shit,” she whispered, tapping the phone. “Hello mother.” She sat up on the edge of the bed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Clarke, honey? I’m just checking in on you,” Abby said on the other end. “I heard Mr. Blake’s surgery was a success. You should be really proud of that. It was quite a masterful surgery.”

Clarke sighed. “Not proud, mom. Just really, really happy that I could help him.”

There was silence. Then: “Well, either way, I think it’s going to be a great story to share. One of our youngest surgeons was able to save an army Lieutenant’s leg. You’re a hero, Clarke.”

Clarke felt anger build in her chest. “No, Mom. Bellamy is the real hero here. He literally held up a god damn building so we could get the kids out and sustained the injuries he has because he did that.” She heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Yes, of course. You’re right, Clarke. And I think we need to thank him publicly for that.”

“We’re doing more than thank him, mom.” Clarke had been putting a plan together in her mind on the drive home and it was now becoming more concrete as she spoke. “Bellamy will be released in a few days. I’m going to have him come here, to my home. It’s already set up for dad and his disability. I can make him comfortable and keep an eye on his progress. And he’s going to have 24 hour nursing care. In addition, we’re bringing a physical therapist to him three days a week, when he’s ready for it. One of our best.” She paused for effect. “And the hospital is covering the cost.”

There was dead silence for a long time. “Clarke, I think you need to get some rest. You don’t really understand the implications of what you’re suggesting,” Abby began.

“I understand a lot more than you think I do,” Clarke said flatly.

“Clarke! Bellamy Blake is not who you think he is. He’s not some fairy tale prince,” Abby was clearly losing her temper.

“You’re right. He’s not who I thought he was. Because until a few days ago, I thought HE WAS DEAD!!” Clarke screamed into the phone. “But he isn’t. And just in the very few encounters I’ve ever had with him, he’s proven what a good man he is. And I don’t want to hear another fucking word about this, mother. The hospital pays or I will suggest to the press that they start an investigation into the safety inspections of the old wing and we’ll see how that goes. Choose which publicity you would prefer Mother.” Clarke was on her feet now, pacing and clenching and unclenching her fist.

“Clarke,” Abby began.

“I need to get back to the hospital and check on Bellamy,” Clarke said, hanging up.

************************************************************************************************

Clarke ate a cheeseburger in her car on the way back to the hospital, swearing to herself she was going to start taking better care of herself...starting next week.

The parking lot was still partially roped off and the entire wing where the pediatric ward had been was barricaded. There was a small crowd standing nearby and taking pictures as well as a local news crew. Clarke drove slowly past as she gazed at the ruined section of the hospital, marveling that no one had been killed.

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she whispered to herself. She badged in to the employee deck and walked briskly past the nurses, giving them a quick wave as she headed to Bellamy’s room.

She opened the door to find Bellamy awake and Octavia sitting by his side, feeding him some jello. Bellamy gave Clarke a pained expressed. Octavia turned and smiled at her.  
  
“He hates jello,” she laughed. “Ever since we were little.” Clarke looked at his chart briefly and lifted the blanket to check on his leg.

“Your leg is looking very good. So they removed the tracheal tube three hours ago,” she looked up at Bellamy. “Sore throat huh?”

He nodded and shifted his eyes back to Octavia who was bringing another spoonful of jello to his lips. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at her.

“Fine,” she said, putting the spoon down. She kissed him on the forehead and stood up, stretching. “I’m going to take a walk and find some breakfast.” She looked at her watch. “Or lunch.”

“Thanks, O,” Bellamy said in a low, raspy voice. She blew him a kiss and left the room.

Clarke waited until she left and walked up to Bellamy, sitting down and taking his hand in hers. He tried to shift up in the bed and winced. Clarke put her hand on his shoulder and then lightly rubbed his chest, which was wrapped with tape.

“You have broken ribs,” she reprimanded him gently. She touched the button on the side of the bed and raised the head slightly. “Better?” she asked.

“Better,” he said. His color was mostly back, but dark bruises on his arms and face still stood out in stark contrast.

“You look better,” she said, smiling. He shook his head and tried to talk again but coughed instead. Clarke poured some water into a glass and put a straw into it, bringing it to his mouth.

“I feel like shit,” he finally whispered. “Everything hurts.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know.”

“How long will I be here?” he asked. Talking seemed to be painful for him and Clarke’s heart ached to give him the answers he wanted.

“I honestly don’t know, Bellamy. It’ll be a while. Your ribs will heal sooner than anything else. I put a lot of pins in your leg and I did a lot of repair work to the arteries and the tendons.”

He looked down at his legs that were covered with a light blanket. His right leg was in a cast from just below his knee to his ankle and his left leg was held together by an apparatus holding the pins in place, making the blanket tent over his lower half. “How many pins?”

“Twenty-two,” she said. “The most I’ve ever done. Your foot, miraculously, was uninjured. They can be the hardest thing to repair.”

“Can I...see it?”

Clarke bit her lip. Patients were always eager to see their bodies after a surgery, but she knew how traumatizing it could be. And she knew Bellamy’s leg was barely even recognizable as such, given the number of incisions she’d had to make, the dozens of pins protruding from it, and the swelling and discoloration.

“Bellamy,” she began. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. There was a lot of damage. It’s not...I just think you should wait. At least for a day or two.”

He shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly. “Clarke, I’ve seen men get their brains blown out right in front of me. I want to see it.”

She stood up and walked to the foot of the bed. Lifting the edge of the blanket, she raised it back slowly, gauging his reaction. His eyes fell onto his ruined leg and she could see he was fighting his emotions. He gazed at it for a long time and then looked back up at her and nodded. She lowered the blanket and returned to her seat.

“This is the worst it’ll look. Okay? You need to keep that in mind. It will only get better from here.”

He turned his head away and she saw him swallow hard, twice, before he spoke. “What about...” he paused. “Will I be able to...” he was getting frustrated with himself. “Is everything else going to, you know, work like it should?”

Clarke smiled at him. “Are you asking if we’ll be able to have sex again?” He nodded, his cheeks flushing.

She leaned slightly towards him. “I’m happy to report the answer is yes. Absolutely. There was no damage to the arteries in your groin, no nerve damage. Everything will be completely...functional.”

A nurse walked in, beaming and holding a newspaper. She held it up so Bellamy could read the headline. “Local Hero Saves Children from Collapsed Hospital.” She laid the newspaper down on the nightstand and checked his IV drip. She looked over at Clarke.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Griffin. How’s our hero?”

Clarke smiled at Bellamy. “He’s doing better.”

The nurse was efficient, gentle, and talkative. “Can you tell me what your pain level is right now Mr. Blake? Scale of 1 to 10?” She was making adjustments to the IV.

“I don’t want any more pain meds,” Bellamy said flatly. The nurse turned towards him and frowned slightly.

“You’ve only been out of surgery for a few hours,” she said gently. “You must still be in a lot of pain.”

Bellamy turned towards Clarke, his expression unreadable. “I don’t want any more pain meds,” he said more firmly.

Clarke sighed. “Mr. Blake, a lot of people are cautious about pain medications. But your body is under incredible stress right now, trying to heal itself. If you’re in pain, that healing is slowed dramatically. I understand your reluctance, and we can talk about reducing the dose gradually. But I really think for the first twenty-four hours at least, you need to have the recommended amount.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay?”

He agreed reluctantly and the nurse began the IV drip. She patted his shoulder. “You should feel better in just a couple of minutes alright?” She left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Clarke waited until she left and then turned back to him. “Bellamy, I have an idea to help you with your recovery.”

He raised his eyebrows at her but didn’t speak. He was clearly getting groggy from the medication.

“I want you to come stay at my place during your recovery. My condo is already set up for easy access to everything...kitchen, shower, bed. My dad was...disabled.” Bellamy frowned at her. “I’m not saying you’re disabled permanently,” she said quickly. “But I just know that the frustrations of getting through a day when you’re physically impaired can be hard. And I think this would be a good way to get you back on your feet more quickly. You’ll have twenty-four hour care, I’ll bring in a physical therapist when you’re ready...”

He was already shaking his head. He opened his mouth to argue, but Octavia walked in the room at the same instant.

“I love that idea!” she exclaimed. She walked up to Bellamy’s other side and looked down at him. “You have a lot of stairs in your house. I was already worried about you going home and how we were going to take care of you. So I think Bellamy is happy to take you up on that offer, Dr. Griffin. Aren’t you Bell?”

He frowned at her, shifting his gaze between her and Clarke. “You two are impossible. I’ll...think about it,” he said slowly, drifting off to sleep almost mid-sentence.

Octavia smiled and nodded at Clarke. “That’s code for yes. I’m used to getting my way,” she said.


	8. A Clarinet Some Place Softly Played

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy continues to heal and Clarke struggles to find a way to tell him who she really is. They are both beginning to realize how many times fate steered them in different directions. And where will fate lead them next?

********************************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy became part of Clarke’s regular routine at the hospital. She would perform her surgeries in the morning, and check on patients afterwards, always leaving his visit as the last one so she could stay a while. On several occasions, she found Andrew with him. They were playing video games on the tablet Bellamy had given him for Christmas. He had been holding on to it for dear life when Clarke had found him during the earthquake. On other occasions, they had been laughing over comic books together. It would be over a week before Bellamy was deemed fit enough to leave the hospital. By that time, Octavia had worked her magic and convinced her stubborn brother that Clarke’s plan was the best one.

The day Bellamy was released from the hospital, the entire staff lined the corridor and applauded as Clarke pushed him in his wheelchair to the exit. He seemed equally surprised and embarrassed by the attention, and grateful when they were finally out of the building. Lincoln had pulled up his SUV to the curb and he and Octavia hopped out to help him get in the car. Between the two of them and an orderly, they were able to lift Bellamy out of the chair and into the front seat. He gritted his teeth as Clarke put foam supports under his leg that was still braced and pinned.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she said to Lincoln as he got behind the wheel. “You’ve got the address?”

“I do,” he said. Clarke patted Bellamy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled. He nodded but he was still frowning and stoic.

She turned to go to her own car. Octavia touched her arm lightly. “Can I ride with you?” she asked.

“Sure,” Clarke shrugged. She and Octavia had spent a lot of time together in Bellamy’s room over the past few days and Clarke felt like she had made a new friend in this strong, willful woman. If not close friends, they had certainly become allies in their struggle to get Bellamy to accept that they would be making the decisions regarding his care. After ten days, he had thrown up his hands and said, “Whatever you want, O.”

She settled into the passenger seat and Clarke pulled out of the lot behind Lincoln. They rode in silence for the first few minutes and Clarke was debating turning on the radio but Octavia finally spoke.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she said, half joking. “Bellamy isn’t very good at letting anyone take care of him.”  
  
Clarke laughed. “Yeah, I gathered that,” she said.

“I mean it,” Octavia said. “He can be a real bear.”

“I can handle it,” Clarke assured her.

“How much as he told you about our childhood?” Octavia asked bluntly.

“Oh! Um...well, nothing really,” Clarke said. Eight years ago he had told her about his mother dying of a drug overdose, but she wasn’t about to mention that to Octavia when she had yet to reveal to Bellamy who she was.

“We didn’t have an easy time of it,” Octavia confessed. “He practically raised me when he was just a kid himself.” She looked out the window as they drove. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for him.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent. She was surprised when she next glanced over at Octavia to see that the woman was crying. She quickly rummaged through her console with one hand still on the wheel and found a box of tissues, which she handed to Octavia.

Octavia dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed, gesturing to her pregnant belly. “Hormones.”

“Hey,” Clarke said. “Don’t worry about it. These last few days have been rough for everyone. And you have another little one at home. I know you’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing, Clarke. I know he may not appear grateful, but it’s just his pride. Believe me. I was really worried about taking care of him, my daughter and dealing with work all while being pregnant, so this truly is a lifesaver for me. I’m sure that’s the reason Bell agreed to it.”

Clarke nodded and remained silent. They pulled in to her driveway behind Lincoln and Octavia jumped out to get the wheelchair and help Bellamy while Clarke unlocked the door to her condo. She was quietly grateful she had never had the ramp removed at the entrance. _It’s like fate_ , she thought to herself.

She watched from the foyer as Lincoln pushed Bellamy up the ramp and into the condo. Octavia was close behind carrying a small duffle of Bellamy’s clothes and medications. She smiled as soon as she was inside.

“This is great! Look, Bellamy,” she pointed to the kitchen, where Clarke’s dad had installed a lower countertop so he could prepare meals for himself. He glanced up briefly, nodded and lowered his head again. Clarke felt a pang of anxiety. She wanted him to be happy, or at least comfortable.

“Hey! Let me show you your room,” she stepped around Bellamy and headed down the hallway. He rolled his chair behind her and she opened her arms wide. There was a king size bed that was slightly lower to the ground, a set of barbells and a special workout bench in the corner, and a wide doorway that led into a bathroom with a walk-in shower. “The bed is completely adjustable, like your hospital bed was, but much more comfortable. What do you think?”

She watched Bellamy’s eyes roam across the room, his new home for the next few months. When they finally landed on her face, full of hopeful anticipation, he smiled.

“It’s really nice. Thank you.”

Octavia put his duffle bag on the bed and opened it up, starting to put his things away for him. He bristled.

“O, leave it. I can do it myself,” he said with more force than he had intended. Both women glanced at each other and back at Bellamy. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He rolled closer to the bed and began pulling things out of his bag. Octavia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later. Be nice, okay?”

“I’ll leave you alone for a little bit,” Clarke said to Bellamy, stepping out with Octavia into the living room. Lincoln was standing in the foyer waiting for them.

“We have a sitter. I need to get back home,” Octavia said. “And Lincoln is meeting a client in a just a little while. Are you going to be okay from here?”

“Of course!” Clarke said a little too quickly. She was nervous about being alone with Bellamy. The last time they’d been alone together was...she shook her head and repeated, “Of course. I’m just going to make us both something to eat and maybe take a nap. I’m off work for the next two days, unless there’s an emergency, so I’ll have time to make sure he’s settled.”  
  
“Great,” Octavia said, surprising Clarke with a hug. “I’ll be in touch.” Lincoln grabbed her hand and nodded.

“Anything you need, you have my number,” he said.

“I do. And thank you,” she replied. She watched them pull away from the condo and turned to go back to Bellamy. He had his back to her, staring at a framed photo he held in his hands. She recognized it as the one her father had always kept on his nightstand. It had been taken years before his accident, when they were still a family. Clarke was about 6 or 7, sitting on his shoulders with an ice cream cone in one hand and waving a little American flag with the other. Jake was dressed in camos, pointing to something outside the picture frame and grinning because her ice cream had dripped onto his face. They had been at a July 4th parade. Her mom had snapped the picture. She remembered it like it was yesterday.

She cleared her throat so Bellamy would know she was there. “That was one of my dad’s favorite pictures,” she said. “I can put it somewhere else.” She reached for the photo but he continued to stare at it.

“You’re Jake Griffin’s daughter,” he said quietly.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart beating a little faster. “You knew my dad?”

He finally looked up at her with an expression she couldn’t read. “He was my CO. Years ago, when I first enlisted. I wasn’t really the kind of kid anyone would have put their faith in. But Jake did. He was a good man. And he changed my life.” He looked back down at the photo. “I was overseas when he died. I wish I could have been here.” He put the framed picture back on the nightstand and rotated his chair around to face her. “You want to hear something really weird?”

“Okay?” she said, not sure what he was going to tell her.  
“Your dad wanted to introduce us,” Bellamy said. “He mentioned it more than once, actually. The last time I saw him, I told him I’d be happy to meet his daughter when I got back.” He shook his head and thought about it. “Clarke, do you believe in fate?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Because I do,” Bellamy said. “I feel like...like this was maybe meant to happen.” He took her hand gently in his own and she marveled at how small her hand looked in his. “I haven’t thanked you yet, for everything. I mean, you put me back together,” he gestured to his leg. “Literally.”

“I...I’m just glad I was able to...that the surgery was successful,” she stammered. His touch was sending heat through her body and she was starting to tremble. He stroked her hand lightly with his thumb.

“I’m glad it was you,” he said quietly. “In that operating room. I think that was fate, too.”

She reached up and stroked his face gently. “Maybe it was,” she said. Her phone beeped in her pocket and she pulled it out. “It’s time for your meds,” she said, standing up. “Let me get you a glass of water and then I’ll make us something to eat.” She headed out to the kitchen and returned holding a glass and several pills. “One is for inflammation, this one is for pain,” she said, handing them to him. “This is an antibiotic, and this is a blood thinner.”

Bellamy swallowed three of them and put the pain pill on his nightstand. Clarke frowned at him. “I”ll take it when I need it,” he said. “I promise.”

They ate soup and sandwiches for dinner. Clarke admitted she wasn’t such a great cook and Bellamy jokingly agreed.

“Hey, I work long hours,” she laughed. “Sometimes I eat a bag of potato chips and call it a night. I’ve been meaning to start eating better. Now seems like the time to do that.”

Bellamy shook his head. “Honestly? Just let me write a grocery list and I’ll cook a few dinners for you. It’s the least I can do and you’ll learn to love good food. Deal?”

“Deal,” she smiled.

They had just finished eating when the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Monty,” Clarke said, taking the dishes to the sink.

“Monty? The nurse?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes. I’ve arranged for a male nurse to come over every evening to help you with your shower,” Clarke said matter-of-factly.

Bellamy was already shaking his head. “Clarke...”

“You need help. Your legs can’t bear any weight right now and you can’t get the cast wet. I don’t want you to slip or injure yourself further. It’s just for a little while. Ok?”

He sighed heavily. “I don’t actually have a say in this, do I?” His little boy pout made her laugh.

“No, you don’t,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He raised his eyebrows at that and gave her a little half smile.

********************************************************************************************

A week later, Bellamy had become comfortable navigating the shower on his own, once Clarke wrapped his legs to protect them. She waited right outside in case he needed help which he kept yelling through the door that he definitely did not.

“I’m impressed,” she laughed, when he finally emerged from the bathroom with his head wet, in a T-shirt and boxers. She was equally impressed with his upper body strength as she watched him lift himself onto the bed and adjust the pillows behind him. Her father had made his space incredibly accessible, placing grab bars everywhere and lowering all the furniture to a height more comfortable for transitioning from a wheelchair. But she was still amazed at how easily Bellamy was able to move, both in his wheelchair and out. His movements were efficient, graceful, and powerful and she caught herself staring at his biceps that were visible beneath the short sleeves of his gray t-shirt. She was remembering how those same arms had lifted her, held her, moved her...

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice broke her trance.

“Yes?” she said quickly.

He laughed. “I asked if you had any good books I could read?”

“Oh! Sure, yes. Let me go get some.” She ducked out and came back with a handful of books in her arms. She sat down on the edge of the bed and handed them to him one by one.

“I’ve got a mystery, a historical fiction, a biography...” He picked each one up and studied it, settling on the biography of Cleopatra.

“I like history,” he said.

“Well, I’m going to get to bed,” she said. She glanced at the nightstand. His pain medication was still sitting there. He saw her notice it.

“I’m fine. I don’t need it,” he assured her.

She nodded. “My room is just down the hall. You should text me if you need anything. Anything at all. I keep my phone by me at all times.”

“I bet you do,” he said. “You need to stop worrying about me. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay. Well, get some rest.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the temple, taking a second to breathe in the scent of his freshly shampooed hair. He raised his hand up to her face and touched her lightly on the cheek, tilting his head up to bring his lips to hers. She had tried for a week to avoid being this close to him, to avoid the feeling of losing control. But his touch electrified her senses as his fingers found their way into her hair. He pulled her closer to him and his mouth became greedy, his tongue insistent as it parted her lips. She thought briefly of breaking the kiss, but the heat of his skin and the softness of his lips were like an irresistible force and she could no more pull away from him then she could fly. She was lightheaded with desire. He brought his hand down, pausing with the flat of his palm on her chest and pressing his thumb lightly into the hollow between her collar bones.

“Your heart’s racing, babe,” he whispered. “You okay?” he smiled, he was teasing her. She pulled away and smiled back. “I’m fine,” she pressed her forehead to his. “You make me crazy, that’s all.”

“I like you crazy,” he said.

“I’m your doctor,” she said more firmly, pulling his hand gently away and putting it back in his lap.

“Hey, we can play doctor if you want,” he said. “I’m game.”

She laughed and stood up, smoothing her hair back. “You have some reading to do. And I need to sleep.” He stuck his bottom lip out and gave her puppy dog eyes which almost caused her to rip her clothes off and climb into bed with him. _God damn this beautiful man. He’s going to be the death of me,_ she thought to herself. She willed herself to step out of the room, leaving the door cracked behind her.

She dressed for bed and lay down in the dark, thinking about Bellamy only just down the hallway. The way she felt so comfortable having him in her space, how easily they conversed, ate together, laughed, played cards. She was falling more in love with him. And it scared her. She had avoided telling him about their first meeting eight years ago for so long now, she no longer knew how to even broach the subject. She was still thinking about this as she drifted to sleep.

It was 2:00 in the morning when she awoke to sounds of someone in distress. Her senses were immediately on full alert. She leaped out of bed and was in Bellamy’s room in seconds. The hall nightlight was dim, but the light cast across his body in the bed and he was gasping in pain, his face contorted into a mask of agony. She flipped the bedside light on and grabbed his hand.

“Bellamy, talk to me,” she said in a loud, firm voice. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Pain,” he choked out.

“Is it your leg?” She asked, grasping his wrist to feel his pulse, which she discovered was way too rapid.

“It’s everything!” he cried.

She glanced over to the nightstand. His pain medication was still sitting there.

“Okay, okay,” she said gently. “I’m going to get some ice packs. I’ll be right back.”

She darted into the kitchen and pulled some ice packs from the freezer. She paused, then yanked a cabinet open and dug around, pulling out a small bottle of CBD oil. She grabbed a hand towel on her way back to Bellamy’s room.

He was writhing on the bad, gritting his teeth and pressing his head into the pillow. Clarke placed the towel across his leg and arranged the smaller ice packs around the metal brace as best she could. She moved to the other side of the bed and sat down beside him, running her hands under the edge of his shirt.

“Can we take this off?” she asked. He nodded and leaned forward, helping her pull his t-shirt over his head. “Now lay back,” she instructed. She dropped several drops of the CBD oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together, then put them on his chest and pressed gently, beginning to massage the oil into his skin. His whole body was tense and rigid, his fists were clenched.

“I need you to breathe,” she whispered. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He tried to follow her instructions, his breath hitching on the first several tries. It took a few minutes, but he was eventually breathing easier. Clarke continued to massage him, rubbing the oil into his arms, beginning with his shoulder, working down his bicep and then his forearm. She took his large hand in hers and rubbed each finger individually, gently laying his hand to his side when she was done. She moved to the other side and repeated the process. Bellamy was fully relaxed and breathing normally by the time she had finished.

“Better?” she asked. He nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I can keep massaging you,” she offered. He gave her a slow smile.

“I won’t say no. It feels amazing.”

She moved back to his right side so she wouldn’t bump his leg brace and started back on his chest, running her hands gently down his rib cage, and across his hip bones, just to the edge of his boxers. The light was dim, but she could see he was getting an erection. She bit her lower lip and looked back up at his face. His eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted. Her hand drifted to just inside the elastic of his boxers and he opened his eyes slightly and looked over at her. He didn’t say anything, just watched her face as she worked her hand further down. When she touched his cock, he let out a tiny groan of pleasure. Encouraged, she used both hands to pull his boxers down slightly and free his now fully hard cock.

“I told you it would still work,” she smiled at him.

“You’re a hell of a doctor,” he said, closing his eyes again and leaning his head back. She shifted further down on the bed and wrapped her hand around the shaft, starting to stroke him. He groaned more loudly and attempted to move his hips but couldn’t manage it.

“Stop moving,” she commanded, putting her other hand on his abdomen. “Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel better.”

Bellamy put his arms over his head and grabbed the rails of the headboard. “Yes ma’am,” he whispered. He inhaled sharply as Clarke took his cock into her mouth. She brought her tongue firmly against the head and circled it, then sucked him down more deeply. His groans grew louder as she continued working him with her mouth, her hand stroking him at a faster pace now.

“Clarke! Baby,” he moaned. “Oh God, I can’t...please. Please...” Clarke had never felt more powerful in her life, bringing this man to a state of begging as she moved her head more forcefully, hollowing her cheeks as she dragged her mouth up his length, then opening her mouth as wide as possible to bring even more of him in when she moved back down. Bellamy was beside himself with need, clinging to the bed frame with one hand and bringing his other hand to the back of her head. He grabbed her hair and held on tight, pushing her head down onto him and holding her there as he came. Clarke began swallowing greedily. She had never felt such a voracious desire take over her before and she wanted to devour him, only stopping when he finally released her hair and stroked her back gently. She stayed with her head laying on his stomach for a few more minutes, her hand on his softening cock, just enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her cheek. Eventually, she scooted back up and lay her head on his shoulder in the crook of his arm and he continued to stroke her back.

“Feel better?” she asked, glancing up at him. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

“Much better,” he replied. “You’re amazing, Clarke.”

She ran her hand up to his chest and hugged him a little closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you want to take your pain meds?”

He was silent for a long time, running strands of her hair through his fingers.

“My mom was an addict,” he said. “She died of a drug overdose. It wasn’t pain meds that killed her, it was heroin. But opioids were one of the first things she got addicted to.”

Clarke could feel Bellamy’s body had started to tense again. She ran her hand across his chest. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. You have a right to know. You’re my doctor.” He gave a little sigh. “I just...I don’t want that to happen to me.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and looked him in the eyes. “I understand, Bellamy. I do. Addiction is a scary thing, especially when you see it up close like that. It’s just sometimes pain relief is the best thing you can do for yourself. To help you heal.”

He nodded. “I know. I mean, logically I know that. But I...I can’t.” He lowered his eyes and then gave her a mischievous smile. “I have to say, the pain relief you gave me tonight worked pretty well. I mean...if you want to prescribe something like that for me to get on a daily basis, I won’t complain.”

She picked up a pillow and tossed it at his head. He laughed and pulled her close to him. “I’m only kidding.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she laughed.

**********************************************************************************************

A few days later, Monty arrived at Clarke’s to take a shift with Bellamy. He was essentially self-sufficient, but Clarke had insisted that he have 24 hour care in spite of Abby’s protests. Monty and Bellamy had taken up a quiet, warm friendship that made Clarke happy. When he knocked on the door, she opened it and quickly grinned down at the boy standing next to Monty.

“Andrew?” she laughed. “What are you doing here?”

Andrew gave her a grin. “Nurse Green asked my foster family if I could come for a visit. They know Bellamy saved my life so they wanted me to come.” He pulled something he had been hiding from behind his back. “I brought him a present.” It was a small Lego set.

Clarke smiled. “He’s going to love it,” she said. “He’s in the bedroom. Why don’t you go down the hall and surprise him? He’s going to be really happy to see you.”

She waited until Andrew had disappeared down the hallway and gestured for Monty to follow her to the kitchen. He perched on a bar stool.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked. “I gave up sodas. Bellamy is trying to get me to eat better. But I have sparkling water? Juice?”

“Water’s fine,” Monty laughed. “So...Bellamy is getting you healthier, huh? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, doc?”

She smiled. “He’s being taken care of, too.” She pulled a bottle of CBD gummies out of her cabinet and put them on the counter. “Speaking of which. Bellamy is adamant about not taking his prescription pain meds. I’ve been giving him these, and massage therapy. It’s not as effective, but it helps. He’s in a lot of pain but he won’t let on unless it gets really bad.” She thought back to the night that Bellamy had woken her with his anguished cries and pressed her lips together.

“Clarke?” Monty asked softly. “There’s more to this relationship than doctor/patient, right?”

She looked up at him. “I...”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I just want you to know that I think it’s great.”  
“It’s not very professional,” she muttered.

“I can assure you, no one at work knows or cares what you are doing in your own home,” Monty said. “If you have feelings for him, I think it’s safe to say those feelings started before his injury.”  
She nodded.

“Then stop worrying about appearances and live your life,” Monty said, hopping from his bar stool and giving her a hug. “Now get to work. I’ve got your patient covered.”

“Okay. Thanks, Monty,” she said. She popped her head into Bellamy’s room. He and Andrew already had the box of Legos open and spread out on Bellamy’s bed. They both looked up at her and grinned.

“I’m stopping by your house after work to pick up your things,” she said.

He nodded. “You have the list? And the key?”

“And the address,” she smiled and assured him. “I’ll be back later. You kids have fun.”

**************************************************************************************************

Clarke pulled into the driveway behind a late model pick-up truck and checked the address again. The little two story house was in a neighborhood she’d never been in. She glanced at the houses on either side of Bellamy’s. Both were in a state of disrepair with peeling paint and high weeds in the yard. Bellamy’s though, looked well-kept and neat. He had told her of about some of his improvement projects and as she stepped up on the newly rebuilt porch, she thought of him with a hammer in his hand and a nail held between his lips. She found herself thinking more and more of him at odd moments of the day, when sipping her afternoon coffee at work, on her drive home. And now, here she was, at the house he grew up in with Octavia and a neglectful mother. She touched the porch rail lightly and smiled.

She pulled the overflowing mail from the box and stuffed it into her shoulder bag, then unlocked the door and stepped inside. She was flooded with a sense of Bellamy’s presence as soon as she entered. The whole house smelled like him, a mix of cedar and musk and clothes warmed by the sun.

Clarke put her bag down near the door and pulled out the list Bellamy had written along with instructions on where to find everything. She smiled again at his neat, careful handwriting. He had teased her so hard about her own sloppy cursive and she had said it was required of doctors.

She started in the kitchen, which, just like the rest of his house, was extremely tidy, sparse, and organized. She began by pulling some spices he asked for and putting them in a grocery bag, then some kitchen gadgets that he had listed that she honestly didn’t even know the use of.

Moving into the living room, she squatted down in front of a bookshelf and pulled a few books out that he had asked for. She ran her fingers along the rest of the titles. Most were military history, mythology, or biographies. She wondered idly if he had read all of them and concluded that he probably had. It was rare that she saw him without a book in his lap since he had come to stay with her.

She carried his duffle bag up the narrow staircase and walked into his bedroom, pausing at the door to just gaze at this most intimate space. Her eyes moved across the room, the queen size bed, the nightstand with another bookmarked biography next to a reading lamp. She crossed the room and pulled the curtain back to look out the window. The view from his room was a postage-stamp size backyard with a well-maintained fence around it. Most of the backyard was taken up by raised beds in which were some dying tomato vines and pepper plants, their season long since over. _So he gardens_ , she thought to herself with a smile.

She went into his bathroom and grabbed his toiletries, sniffing his cologne and deciding to put that in as well. She pulled out her list again and began opening drawers and stuffing socks, t-shirts, and jeans into his duffle. He’d requested his favorite hoodie, which she found on a shelf in the closet. She grabbed that as well as two more flannel shirts. As she was turning with the shirts in her hand, she happened to glance to the shelf above and saw a small, wooden box. Her first thought was to ignore it and she put the clothes in the duffle and zipped it up. But something made her turn back and look at the box again.

“You shouldn’t snoop,” she chided herself. Ignoring that bit of advice, she carefully pulled the box off the shelf and carried it to the bed and sat down with it on her lap. The box had a sliding top and as she slid it open to reveal the contents, a small ‘oh’ escaped her lips. She stared inside the box for a long time, then placed it beside her on the bed and lifted out the delicate rhinestone crown. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. The memory of placing it on his head, of him laughing, grabbing her around the waist when she lost her balance, it was too much. She looked in the box again at the photo that had been lying underneath the crown. It was the one she had taken from Bellamy’s phone of the two of them. He had printed it off a regular printer and the cameras on phones eight years ago had been terrible, so it was little more than a blurry image of two people, a brunette man in a crown and a blond woman wearing a too large jacket and a pink princess dress, her facial features obscured by layers of face paint. She touched the image lightly. They had been so young. It seemed so long ago. And he had kept these things, treasured them, this entire time? She had meant as much to him as he had to her?

_Why the hell didn’t you just tell him immediately who you were, Clarke? She thought to herself._ _How the fuck are_ _you going to tell him now?_

She was shaking as she returned the crown to the box and returned the box to its place on the shelf. She collected the rest of Bellamy’s things in a hurry and left, locking the door behind her.

*********************************************************************************************

Clarke arrived home to find Monty, Bellamy and Andrew on the sofa watching a movie. She laughed. “I’ve never come home to this many men in my house before,” she said, putting a bag of groceries on her counter and setting Bellamy’s duffle bag on the floor.

“Hi Dr. C,” Andrew said. He came up and gave her a hug while Monty stood up, stretched, and pulled his jacket on.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked. Andrew nodded.

“Bellamy loved the Legos,” he whispered.

“I knew he would,” she whispered back.

Bellamy rolled his wheelchair around to the foyer. “Thanks for babysitting me,” he said with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Monty grinned and shook his hand. “Hey, I wish all my patients were this fun to hang out with,” he said.

After they left, Bellamy turned towards the kitchen and started rummaging through the groceries. “Thanks for going to my house and getting those for me,” he said, nodding to the duffle bag on the floor. Turning his attention back to the groceries, he asked “Were you able to get fresh scallops?”

“Yes. I got everything on both lists,” she said. “Do you want some help?”

“Nope,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Good,” she sighed. “I need a shower. I’ll be done soon,” she squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll just set this on your bed,” she said as she grabbed the duffle and left him happily working in the kitchen.

Half an hour later she was devouring the scallops that Bellamy had expertly prepared and placed on a bed of lightly sautéed spinach. She closed her eyes as she put a bite in her mouth. “God,” she said. “I never knew food could be this good.”

“That’s because you’ve been eating crap for the last few years,” he laughed, filling her wine glass with a delicate white wine.

“You’re spoiling me,” she pointed her fork at him. “And I’m loving it.”

He dropped his eyes and sipped his wine. “I like spoiling you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

She cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen as Bellamy took a shower. Once she heard the water shut off she walked down the hallway and knocked lightly on his door, which was cracked open.

“Come in,” he said. He had a towel around his waist and was drying his hair off with a second one. “Did you want to help me get dressed?” he said, giving her a sly grin.

Clarke stood in the doorway and watched him as he maneuvered his way onto the bed and reached for a pair of shorts. She walked over and put her hand over his.

“I was thinking you could put off getting dressed for a little while,” she said. He put the shorts back on the dresser and lay back on his pillow, watching her as she pulled her shirt over her head and unzipped her jeans. When she was in just her bra and underwear, she climbed onto the bed and straddled him, seating herself gently on his groin. He was already partially hard underneath his towel. He cocked his head slightly, his eyes boring into hers.

“Lean forward,” he said, his voice husky. Clarke leaned towards him, her blond hair falling in a curtain around their faces. Bellamy reached behind her and unclasped her bra, running his hands gently underneath it and cupping her breasts. She pulled the straps down and tossed it to the side, leaning further forward as Bellamy brought his mouth to her breast, continuing to caress the other. His other hand made its way to the small of her back, pressing her down harder onto his erection. A sigh escaped her lips and she ground her hips against him. Bellamy moved his hand around to her abdomen, worked it down between the two of them and pressed his thumb against her clit. She moaned with pleasure, making him smile around the curve of her breast. He kept moving his thumb in small circles as he sucked her breast more hungrily.

Clarke was becoming desperate with need. Bellamy sensed this and slipped his thumb inside the edge of her underwear, pushing it into her as she continued to thrust her hips against his. He released her breast and lay his head back down on the pillow. Clarke put her hands behind her on either side of his thighs and leaned back as he gripped the outside of her mound with his fingers and continued to work his thumb deeper into her cunt. She was on the verge of an orgasm when he pulled his hand away, suddenly. “No!” she cried.

“I need to be inside you. Get these off,” he demanded, tugging at the waist band of her underwear. She rose up and slipped out of them as he unwrapped and opened his towel. She straddled him again, this time feeling the head of his cock pressing at her entrance. She rose slightly, guided him in and began rocking forwards and back until his cock was fully inside her. Bellamy grabbed her by the hips and began moving her back and forth with more force. He was so deep inside her and hitting all the right spots, it was only minutes before her orgasm overtook her and she threw her head back.

“Oh God!” she moaned. The power of her orgasm took her by surprise and tears leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Come here sweetheart,” he whispered. She pressed her body against his and kissed him deeply. His face grew wet with her tears and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Shhhh,” he said as her heart rate slowed.

She sat up, his hard cock still buried inside her and put her hands on his chest.  
  


“Your turn,” she said quietly, raising herself up until he was almost completely out of her before she slammed her hips back down to his. Bellamy groaned in surprise. She did this a second time, then began riding him with a passion she was sure she’d never possessed before. It was as though another force had taken over her body. Bellamy’s head was pressed hard into the pillow, his eyes shut and his hands resting on her thighs. He was letting her take control and she wanted more. She picked up her pace and his breath began coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Harder...please,” he gasped. Clarke was fucking him relentlessly, feeling a second orgasm building. “Babe, you feel so good,” he groaned. “I...need...”

“What, Bellamy. Tell me what you need,” she demanded.

“You,” he cried. “I need you, Clarke!” He came inside her as her own orgasm racked her body and she threw herself back onto him, needing the heat of his skin against hers, needing to be as close to him as humanly possible. They clung to each other, bathed in sweat, laughing and crying until they couldn’t breathe. She rolled off of him, completely exhausted and nestled into his chest, keeping the lower half of her body away from his legs so she didn’t disturb his cast. He held her close, not speaking for a long time.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he finally said.

She smiled into his chest. “So are you.”

Bellamy kissed the top of her head. “I haven’t really told anyone about my mom before.” He paused. “Actually, there was this one girl I met. I...I don’t know why, but I opened up to her about all kinds of stuff. It might have been because she was drunk,” he laughed. “And she was in this over the top costume, and just caught her boyfriend cheating on her.”

Clarke stiffened. “Wow,” she said awkwardly. “Sounds like you two hit it off.” Her mind drifted back to the box in Bellamy’s closet.

“It was a long time ago,” Bellamy said. “And she died the next day,” he swallowed hard. “I haven’t really talked about that to anyone either, except to my friend Miller.” He shook his head like he was trying to clear his memories.

“Wait. She died?” Clarke said, her heart racing. “What do you mean, she died? How?”

He gave her funny look. “She was in a car accident. She was supposed to meet me somewhere, she never showed. On my way home, I saw the car. I went to the hospital and I couldn’t even tell them her name. She never told me what it was. I was told everyone in the accident died.” He took Clarke’s hand. “Hey, you okay? You look upset.”

“It’s just...that’s so sad. I’m sorry that happened,” she said. “And you never found anyone else?”

He looked at her for a long time before he responded. “Not until now.”


	9. I Still Believe She was My Twin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy learn to trust each other more and open up about their painful pasts. But even with greater trust, fate will prove once again that being together is never a given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: This chapter contains depictions of rape.  
> T/W: Anxiety attack and some PTSD in this chapter.

************************************************************************************************************************

“His name is Apollo,” Octavia said, handing Bellamy the tiny baby boy. “Apollo Benedict Forrester.” Bellamy looked into the eyes of his new nephew.

“That’s a pretty big name for such a little guy,” he chuckled.

“We know it’s different, but it works for someone with a sister named Nyx. And Benedict just seemed...right somehow.”

Bellamy felt a tiny tug on his sleeve and looked over to see Nyx looking shyly up at him. He grinned at her. “You wanna sit up here on my lap?” he asked. She nodded and Bellamy held the baby out of the way as Nyx climbed onto his lap.

“Be careful of your uncle’s brace, sweetie,” Octavia said.

“She’s fine,” Bellamy said. The little girl had become comfortable maneuvering around his brace and was so lightweight he could barely tell she was there. She leaned her head back against his chest and he brought the tiny baby back down so they could both hold him. He silently acknowledged that this was the closest he’d ever been to feeling completely content and closed his eyes to mentally freeze the moment in time. If any gods were listening, he hoped they heard his wish that someday he would have this for his own. 

***********************************************************************************************

In the weeks that followed, Bellamy had his cast removed on his right leg and he’d been able to transition to crutches and bear weight on it. He’d had a second surgery to remove the pins and brace on his left leg, which was now in a walking cast. He was healing more quickly than most, but he was impatient with his progress and Clarke would come home more often than not to find him irritable and complaining. Most nights he wound up mad at himself for snapping at Clarke or for ignoring her questions about his pain level, or how his physical therapy was going. Ultimately, he would apologize even though she insisted he didn’t need to.

He missed her when she was at work and now that nurses were not scheduled to be watching him around the clock, he found himself moving about her house and studying every detail. He had long since memorized the row of family photos on her mantle, the small number of books she kept on her shelves, the haphazard assortment of spices in her cabinets. Inevitably, he would find himself at the door to her room, his hand on the knob, feeling closer to her just by touching it. Once he even brought himself to open the door but stopped short of entering. His eyes instead traveled around the space. Her unmade bed, the shoes she habitually kicked under the dresser, the desk in the corner with mail scattered across the surface. His mind conjured the image of Clarke moving through this space, emerging from the bathroom in a towel, rummaging in her dresser, sitting on the edge of the bed to slip her foot into a sandal. He wondered idly if she ever sat at the desk and looked out the window with her mind on him. He hoped so.

In spite of his obvious handicaps, their sex life had been incredible. Clarke was the most enthusiastic and creative lover Bellamy had ever had. He had also never had sex with such regularity in his life, but Clarke’s sexual appetite had proven to be a match for his own. As much as it had embarrassed him at first, to have her work his cock with her hands and her mouth, straddle him and ride him with a fury while he was unable to do much more than hold her, he had grown to just accept and enjoy it.

He was thinking of Clarke now, sweaty and panting, her breasts pressed against him and her lips on his neck or his ear and he could feel his arousal building. He was startled by a knock on the door that took his thoughts back to the present. Glancing out the window, he spotted Murphy’s car in Clarke’s driveway and made his way to the door to open it. Murphy was leaning against the door frame wearing aviator sunglasses in spite of the overcast skies. He gave Bellamy a big grin.

“Hey asshole! Long time, no see,” he said, waltzing into the house like he lived there. Bellamy shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh, come on in, Murphy.” He shut the door and turned around. Murphy was already in the living room and had seated himself on the sofa, his arms thrown wide across the back. Bellamy eased himself into one of the chairs, his legs extended out in front of him.

“So, how’s it going?” he asked. He still hadn’t taken off the sunglasses.

“It’s going pretty well,” Bellamy replied, gesturing to his legs. “I’m out of the cast and brace. I’ve been getting physical therapy.” He glanced at his phone. “In fact, she’ll be here soon.”

“She? Who?” Murphy asked.

“My PT,” he said. “She comes here three times a week.”

Murphy nodded slowly, finally taking his shades off. He leaned forward and looked at Bellamy closely.

“Are you really doing okay, man?” His concern was evident. Murphy was a wise ass and a bit of a dick, but he did care about his friends. “Miller said he was here a couple of days ago and you didn’t seem to be...yourself.”

Miller had caught Bellamy on one of his off days. He’d been trying to make something for Clarke for dinner, hadn’t been able to reach a particular sauce pan he needed, and had ended up climbing on a step stool and slipping. He’d been in so much pain for the rest of the day, he’d had to go back to using his wheelchair, so by the time Miller had come over, Bellamy was angry, frustrated, and ranting.

“Miller just...I was having a bad day. I’m really okay,” he said.

“I figured,” Murphy said breezily. “So...” he eyed Bellamy with a sly expression. “Are you and the doc...you know.”

Bellamy frowned at him. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Murphy laughed. “Are you two fucking? What’s that like? I guess she’s usually on top, right?”

Bellamy felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Even if we were, It’s none of your fucking business, Murphy.” Bellamy knew Clarke didn’t really want their relationship to be public knowledge, since she was his doctor. He certainly didn’t want Murphy to be blabbering about it.

“Oh, I know,” Murphy laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. I mean c’mon Blake. That woman is hot. And you’re a classic sympathy case right now. I’d be playing that for all it was worth if I were you.”

“Well, you aren’t me,” Bellamy snapped.

“Alright, alright,” Murphy said. “Sorry I asked. For real, though. You look good, Bellamy. Whatever she’s doing, it’s working.”

Bellamy sighed. “It’s slower than I thought. I’m going crazy just sitting around all day, doing nothing.”

“Shit, man. You got crushed by a fucking building. You didn’t expect you’d be walking the next day, did you?” Murphy asked.

He shrugged. “It’s just...I’m ready to get back to my life.”

Murphy nodded sympathetically. “Just stick it out. It’s not forever.”

They continued to talk, with Murphy catching him up on the lives of everyone in his platoon. He had Bellamy laughing out loud with his stories and he had lost track of time when there was a second knock on the door.

“That’s probably Emori,” Bellamy said.

“Emori?”

“My physical therapist,” he responded.

“I’ll get it,” Murphy offered, rising from the sofa. Bellamy watched Murphy open the door.

A gorgeous brunette woman with a nose ring and a tattoo peeking out of the collar of her shirt along one side of her neck was standing on the other side. She gave Murphy a wide smile and extended her hand.

“Hi, I’m Emori,” she said. She glanced over and smiled at Bellamy who gave a small wave.

Murphy was still standing in the doorway, staring at her.

“Murphy, this is Emori,” Bellamy repeated, waiting. “John?” he called a little louder.

“Hi,” Murphy finally said. “Hi...ah, Emori.” He finally extended his hand to her. She took it firmly and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

She stood for another second. “Can I...come in?” she finally asked.

“Sure,” Murphy said.

“Can I...have my hand back?” she laughed.

“Sorry,” Murphy stuttered, releasing her hand and stepping back to let her in.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at Murphy as Emori walked past them with her bag.

“You didn’t tell me she was...she’s beautiful.” Murphy faltered.

“What’s that Murphy?” Bellamy said loudly, grinning at him.

Murphy’s face reddened.

“I better get going,” Murphy said. He looked into the living room and called out to Emori. “Hope to see you again.”

She gave him a broad smile. “Well, I’m here three times a week,” she said. “So, I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”

Bellamy glanced back and forth between the two of them. He’d never seen John Murphy at such a loss for words and he had to suppress a laugh.

“Okay,” Murphy said. “I’ll...uh. Okay, bye.” He practically fled from the house and Bellamy chuckled, turning back to Emori to begin his therapy session.

When Clarke arrived home an hour later, Bellamy was lying flat on his back on a yoga mat, flushed and grimacing, as Emori stood over him, gently stretching his leg. She looked up at Clarke and smiled.

“He’s doing great,” she said. “A lot of progress today.”

Clarke came in and sat on the sofa near them. “That’s good news,” she said, looking at Bellamy. “How are you feeling?”

“She’s killing me,” he gasped. Emori shook her head.

“You said you could handle it,” she smiled. “No pain, no gain. Remember?”

She looked up at Clarke. “I haven’t iced him yet. We’re running a little late.”

Clarke stood up. “It’s no problem. I can do that part. And the massage.”

Emori winked at Bellamy. “Hear that, Bellamy? You’re getting a massage.”

Bellamy sighed heavily as Emori finally released his leg. He threw his arm over his face.

“I deserve it after this torture,” he said. Both women laughed and Emori grabbed his hand to help him up and onto the sofa.

Clarke helped her pack her things back into her bag and walked her to the door. Emori waved to Bellamy and called out, “Tell your friend John it was nice meeting him.”

After she left, Clarke walked into the kitchen and came back with several ice packs. Bellamy was laying on the sofa and he hissed as she raised his leg up slightly and placed one under his thigh and another on top. Then she used an ace bandage to wrap two more around his calf.

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “I ordered dinner so you don’t have to cook,” she said. He nodded.

“Were you serious about the massage?” he asked hopefully.

She moved her lips to his ear. “Very...serious,” she whispered, sending a jolt of desire straight to his cock.

They were laying in his bed later that night, with Clarke’s head on his chest. He was idly playing with strands of her hair and hoping that tonight would be the night she would actually fall asleep here and stay rather than slide away from him and return to her room.

“I got a text from Octavia today,” she said.

“Oh?”

“She wants to have dinner with me tomorrow,” Clarke said. She was stroking his chest as she spoke. He closed his eyes and focused on how good the light touch of her fingertips felt.

“Mmmmm. She likes you,” he said. “That’s unusual.”

She shifted slightly. “Is it? Does she know about...us?”

Bellamy sighed. “I haven’t told her. But I’m sure she knows. She always seems to know things about me, whether I tell her or not.”

“That must be strange,” Clarke mused. “I always wanted a brother. When I was growing up I was always jealous of my friends who had older brothers.”

“Octavia deserved a better brother than me,” he said. Clarke raised herself up on her elbow.

“Why would you say that?” she frowned at him. He turned his head. “Bellamy, look at me.” He met her eyes. “Why do you think she deserves better?”

He stared at the ceiling. “I did the best I could. But when mom died, I just...it was hard. That’s all.”  
  
“There’s something else,” she said. “What is it?”

“I can be overprotective,” he finally said. “I did things I wish I hadn’t.”

Clarke was sitting all the way up now. “What things?”

“There was this time, it was right after my mom died. I came home from work and found her dealer in my house. Jason. He was a fucking dick, just sitting on the sofa, talking to Octavia. I was pissed off. He’s just sitting there grinning at me. And before he left he turned and looked at Octavia. And it was just...something in the way he looked at her. It was like a predator. And I fucking lost it.”

Clarke’s heart was pounding in her ears. “What do you mean? You lost it?”

Bellamy closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I went to his house. And I set it on fire.”

“Oh god!” Clarke cried. “Was he inside?”  
Bellamy nodded. “I wasn’t thinking. I was in a rage.”

“But Bellamy! Did he...die?”

“No,” he said. “I saw him run out the back as the whole thing went up in flames. And that was the last time I ever saw him.” He gauged her reaction. “I didn’t want to kill him, Clarke. I don’t know what I wanted, honestly. I regretted it. I still do. But when I told you that your dad saved me, I meant it. I could have easily continued down that road if it hadn’t been for him. He taught me how to deal with my rage, my pain. I was nearly lost.”

Clarke nodded slowly and then settled back down beside him. “I’m glad my dad was there for you, then.” She put her hand back on his chest and Bellamy covered it with his own.

“Me too,” he whispered.

Bellamy didn’t get his wish that night. Just as he was dozing off, he felt Clarke ease out of his arms and tiptoe out of the room.

******************************************************************************************

Clarke met Octavia at a small Italian restaurant near the hospital. Octavia had arrived before her and was already in a booth in the back. She had an open bottle of red wine with two glasses on the table. She stood up and gave Clarke a hug.

She slid into the seat opposite Octavia and sipped from the glass of wine nearest her.

“I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and ordered wine,” Octavia said. “It’s my first night out since Apollo was born. Lincoln is bottle feeding tonight and I’m ready to relax.”

Clarke smiled. “It’s perfect.”

They each ordered their pasta and then began chatting. It had been so long since Clarke had had a friend outside of work to just hang out with, so she was enjoying herself immensely. Before she knew it, the wine bottle was empty. She ordered a second as their dinner arrived. They were giggling like high school girls that got caught drinking behind the building.  
  
“I needed this,” Clarke said. “Thank you.” Octavia smiled at her.

“Tell me about my brother,” she said. “Is he being an asshole?”  
Clarke laughed. “He’s not. I swear. He gets grumpy, especially when he’s in pain and won’t take any pain meds. But I don’t blame him, after your mom…he doesn’t want to take them. The physical therapy is going well, but I know he’s impatient.”

Octavia nodded. “I know I told you before,” she said, “But he really is a great guy. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for someone who needed him.”

Clarke watched her for a minute and remembered the story Bellamy had told her the night before. She didn’t want to ask if Octavia remembered the night her brother had burned someone’s house down. She felt suddenly uncomfortable talking about him. It felt as though she was betraying him somehow. But Octavia was clearly pretty drunk by this time and kept talking.

“I remember once, when I was in 8th grade, there was an end of year dance. There was this boy I had a crush on,” she smiled at the memory. “And I wanted to impress him so bad. And we were really poor, Clarke. Mom was...gone by that time and it was just me and Bell.”

Clarke shifted in her seat, not sure she wanted to hear this much about Bellamy’s private life but not wanting to interrupt Octavia who clearly needed to talk.

“There was this other girl in my class who brought pictures of the dress she was wearing to the dance to school. And I saw them and I wanted that dress. I mean, I wanted it worse than anything in my life. Do you remember that feeling? When you’re 13 years old and you think you’ll die if you don’t get that one thing you think you need?”  
  
Clarke smiled. “Yeah, I do remember that. For me, it was this charm bracelet. Everyone had one but me. At least, that’s how it felt. And of course, my mom said no because it was ridiculously expensive. I thought it was the end of the world.”

Octavia nodded. “So I went home from school and I begged Bellamy to buy me that dress. He looked at me like I was crazy. Told me we could barely pay the bills as it was. And I...” she sighed. “I threw a fit. God, I don’t know what got into me.”  
  
“Hormones,” Clarke said. Octavia smiled sadly and nodded.

“So about a week later, I came home and went in my room and the dress was laying on my bed. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. I think it was the first time I ever felt like my life was going to be okay. And I remember turning around and seeing Bellamy there in the doorway, smiling at me. But he looked sad, too. I didn’t know why and I didn’t even think about it at the time. I was so fucking selfish.”  
  
“Hey, you were just a kid. Don’t be that hard on yourself,” Clarke said gently. “How’d the dance go?”

“It was great,” Octavia said. “But what happened a few weeks later changed all that.”

Clarke started to feel a little tightness in her gut. “What happened?”

“I was in the library after school and I overheard these two older boys talking. One of them worked in the same grocery store as Bellamy.” She was wringing her hands. “And he was telling the other one that he knew for a fact that the store manager was paying Bellamy for sex.” She took a deep breath. “They joked about him being a prostitute. One of them said they should all take up a collection and pay Bellamy to fuck their English teacher so she’d lighten up and give out better grades. And I was so mad. I wanted to yell at them, tell them they didn’t know what they were talking about. But part of me...” she paused. “Part of me knew it was true. I knew at that moment where he got the money for the dress. I ran home, pulled it out of the closest and brought it into Bellamy’s room. I asked him to take it back. He said he couldn’t. Then I screamed at him to tell me where he got the money for it. He got really pissed off then, and told me to never ask him that again, to just be thankful that I got what I wanted.” Octavia wiped her eyes. “But that was never what I wanted, you know? I didn’t want him to...He shouldn’t have had to do the things he did.”

Clarke looked down at her plate and felt completely sick at her stomach. She imagined the two Blake siblings as children, the inconceivable trauma of losing a parent coupled with the desperation of poverty. She imagined Bellamy throwing a gas can in the trunk of his car, his eyes dark with rage. She imagined him in a store, buying a dress for his little sister, after leaving the bed of a woman he cared nothing for. She imagined him at her home right now, not knowing that his sister was revealing some of the secrets he’d prefer to keep.

Octavia wiped her eyes again. “Look, I shouldn’t have just told you that,” she said. “I don’t know what got into me. I was...” she looked directly into Clarke’s eyes. “I want you to promise me you won’t hurt him,” she said. “He’s been through enough.”

Clarke opened her mouth and closed it again. She was feeling lightheaded from the wine and an impending panic attack. “I won’t hurt him,” she said simply. She didn’t know what else to say.

************************************************************************************************

Bellamy’s eyes flew open. It only took him a second to recognize the sounds of someone crying and where the sound was coming from. He threw the covers off and pulled himself out of bed, hobbling down the hallway.

“Clarke!” he began yelling before he made it to the doorway of the bathroom. “Clarke!” He put his hand on the knob but it was locked. He heard glass shatter on the floor and Clarke cursing. He pounded on the door. “Please, Clarke. Are you okay? Let me in.”

“I’m fine,” she called out in a shaky voice. “Really. I just dropped something.”

Bellamy pressed his hand and forehead to the door. “You’re not fine, honey. I can hear you crying.”

She was silent for so long, he felt a panic well in his chest. “Clarke?” he said again.

He could hear her steps approaching the door, then stop. He slid down the wall and sat with his back against the door. “I won’t leave until you talk to me,” he said.

He could hear her press her weight against the door and slide down the other side.

“Bellamy?” she called out in a soft voice.

“I’m here,” he said. He wanted to touch her, to look in her eyes, to wipe her tears away. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He could hear her catch her breath and try to control her sobs. Eventually she opened the door a tiny crack as he leaned away from it and shifted around to see her face through the opening. He reached his hand out and she took it and as he rubbed her wrist with his thumb he could tell her heart was beating out of control.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispered. When she brought her eyes to his, he could see her pupils were dilated.

“You’re having a panic attack, Clarke. I’m a soldier. I know PTSD when I see it,” he said softly. He pushed gently on the door so it opened enough for him to put himself in the middle of the doorway and pull her between his legs and hold her to him. She began openly sobbing again.

“Shhhh,” he stroked her head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.” He saw blood on her palm and looked over at the floor where a pill bottle had shattered. She noticed him looking at it and pulled her hand closer to her chest.

“It’s my anxiety medication,” she said. He nodded and didn’t say anything. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said briskly. “But not everyone can get through their pain with no help.”

“Hey sweetie,” he said softly, lifting her chin gently with his fingertips. “I’m not thinking anything about that. If it helps you, then it’s a good thing.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes, then pulled her hands into the sleeves of her shirt. She seemed so small and vulnerable it made his heart hurt and he pulled her back into him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“About what?”

“About what causes the anxiety, the panic. What triggers it?”

She turned her face back up to look him in the eye, considering something. She stood up abruptly and held her hand out to him. He took it, raised himself slowly to his feet and followed her into her room. He had never been fully inside the room before and he felt like he was treading into something of a sacred space. Clarke pulled him over to her bed and sat down on the edge of it. He sat down close to her and waited.

“When we first met,” Clarke began. “I told you I’d only been dating women.”

He nodded. “I remember.”

Clarke was visibly trembling. “The reason I stopped dating men was because I was raped.”

Of all the things she could have said, Bellamy did not expect her to say this. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to say something, but she kept speaking.

“He broke into my house. I got home late, he knocked me out and I woke up tied to my bed. He kept me there for...hours,” she said. “I remember he went in the kitchen at one point and made himself something to eat.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, he felt like he was drowning in a red sea of anger at the thought of anyone hurting this woman who was sitting close to him. He took a deep breath and found his own voice was shaking. “I’m so sorry. I...” She held up her hand to stop him.

“I need to get this out before you say anything else,” she said. “After he ate, he came back in the room. He raped me a second time. He wore a condom both times. He made me take a shower. He took all my sheets, all the clothes I’d been wearing. No DNA left to trace. And he took a locket my dad had given me. I don’t know why. For a stupid trophy I guess.” Her voice had grown cold, bitter. “And he was fucking humming. He was happy. I remember that more distinctly than anything else.”

Bellamy felt tears burning his eyes. He took another shaky breath, not sure whether he should touch her or speak but decided to take a chance. “Did you know him?”

She gave a small shrug. “He wore a ski mask. I still see that in my nightmares. Him over me with that mask on.”

“Did you go to the police?”

She put her head in her hands and nodded. “They couldn’t do anything but take a report. They gave me an exam, they came to the house. There was nothing they could use to trace him. I wasn’t the first and I’m sure I wasn’t the last. They were just waiting for him to make a mistake so they could catch him.” She looked at Bellamy through red-rimmed eyes. “I never told my parents, and I don’t know why I’m telling you now, except...”

“What?”

“Except I thought you might be wondering why I never spend the night in your bed. Why I’ve never invited you into mine. It’s just...”

“Hey,” he said. “You don’t have to explain that to me. I want you to be comfortable. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. We shouldn’t have even slept together.” His words were tumbling out of his mouth. He didn’t mean any of it. The thought of not making love to Clarke had become inconceivable to him. _Please don’t say I’m right,_ he thought to himself. _Please don’t stop coming to my bed._

Clarke gave him a small smile. “You never pushed me to do that, Bellamy. Believe me, it’s what I wanted. It’s what I still want. It’s just...if I seem to be taking it slow, you deserve to know why.” _You deserve so much more than that. You deserve to know who I really am, too,_ she thought. _You deserve to be with someone who isn’t ruined by her past. Who isn’t so afraid._

He breathed a big sigh of relief. “We can take it as slow as you want, Clarke. I’ve got nothing but time.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her until he felt her relax into him.

************************************************************************************************

Bellamy walked on eggshells around Clarke in the following days. He didn’t mention what she had revealed to him that night, and she didn’t speak of it again. It pained him to watch her move through the house, carrying out her usual chores, scheduling her day. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to make love to her. It would be another few days before she came to him, as though nothing had been said. He was nearly asleep when she tapped softly on his door and stepped in, undressing wordlessly. He accepted that, as he did everything about her. He let her take the lead, as he’d done for months now, let her straddle him and lower herself down onto him, let her take her pleasure from his body. He felt like less of a participant than a spectator, watching her face as she was overcome with her orgasm. It didn’t bother him as much as it probably should, he reasoned. He would take any time with Clarke that he could. When she moved her body in the way she knew would bring him to his climax, he bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from admitting his feelings for her in the throes of his own desire. It was agony for him, but a beautiful agony, and he was scared to alter the course of whatever path they were on.

Emori had pronounced him fit enough to live independently and he had become anxious to move back into his own house. He wanted to be on equal footing with Clarke before he dove into a discussion about their future. So when she came home the following evening, they sat down and talked about how soon he would be leaving.

“Your birthday is coming up in a few days,” Clarke said. “Don’t you want to stay here for that? I can throw you a little party?”

“No!” he practically shouted. “I hate parties.” She looked shocked by his outburst.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just would rather not.”

She gave a little shrug. “Okay, then. How about you move back in on your birthday. Like a gift to yourself?”

He smiled. “That sounds good.”

“Can I at least bake you a cake?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “If you really feel the need.” He paused. “I like chocolate.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and stood up. “Chocolate it is.”

***************************************************************************************************

Clarke followed him up the steps to his house, carrying his cake in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, and making sure he could navigate on the single crutch he still used. With the crutch under his arm he used his other hand to turn the key in the lock. He stepped inside and turned on the light to a crowd of people in his house. Octavia and Lincoln were standing in the middle of it with Nyx and Apollo.

“Surprise!” they all shouted at once. Clarke looked past Bellamy and winked at Octavia, proud that they had managed to keep this a secret from him for the past several days. A large banner across the back of the dining room said “Welcome Home Bellamy,” and there was a gorgeous spread of food laid out on the small dining table.

Clarke glanced around the room and spotted Monty, who had his arm lightly around Harper’s waist. Raven, Miller, and Murphy were there and she smiled as she saw that Murphy was standing close to Emori. Bellamy had told her that he had never seen John Murphy tongue tied before he met Emori. 

She looked over at Bellamy who appeared equal parts surprised and annoyed by the attention. She gave his arm a squeeze and mouthed “Happy Birthday” to him when he turned towards her. He smiled and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks,” he whispered. He hobbled forward and began interacting with the guests while Clarke went to the kitchen to put the cake and wine onto the counter. Octavia followed her in.

“He was definitely surprised,” she laughed, shifting Apollo to her other hip and giving Clarke a quick hug.

“I hope he’s not upset with us,” Clarke said. Octavia waved that away.

“He’ll get over it,” she said, popping an hors d'oeuvre in her mouth. “I want to celebrate my big brother. He’ll just have to deal with it.”

Clarke peered around the doorway and saw Bellamy with a beer in his hand and chatting with his friends. He glanced up and grinned at her. She smiled back. “I think he’s dealing with it just fine,” she said to Octavia.

The guests stayed for several hours and by the time they left, Bellamy was sitting on the sofa with his left leg elevated. Clarke sat beside him, finishing a glass of wine.

“That was fun,” she said. “Don’t you think so?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, it was.”  
“So why did you tell me you hate parties so much?” she asked.

He blew out a sigh. “Well, the last party I had was for my 15th birthday. My mom got so wasted she came on to one of my friends.”  
“Oh,” Clarke said, not sure what else to add.

“Yeah. It was pretty fucking humiliating,” Bellamy said. He looked at Clarke and gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m drunk,” he said. He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

Clarke stood up and got busy in the kitchen, cleaning and taking out trash. Bellamy kept calling out to her from the living room.

“Clarke! Just leave it! I can deal with it tomorrow!”

She finally finished and joined him in the living room again, handing him a plate with a piece of cake and a candle stuck in it. He smiled at her.

“What’s this?”

“Make a wish,” she said.

He let the tiny flame burn for a few seconds and then closed his eyes and blew it out. When he opened his eyes, he looked at Clarke and said, “I wished for you to stay with me until morning.” His words were slightly slurred and she realized he was probably more drunk than she had suspected. She took the plate of cake and placed it on the table beside them.

“I think we can make that wish come true,” she said. He reached up to cradle her head in his hands and kissed her deeply. When he pulled away from the kiss, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“Clarke...” he began.

“Let me help you get to bed,” she interrupted. She stood and took his hands, helping him stand up. His bedroom, thankfully was on the ground floor so they made their way through the narrow hallway to the back of the house and Bellamy practically collapsed on to his bed.

“Here’s my room,” he announced to her, throwing out his arm and sweeping it around the room.

“I know, Bellamy,” she said, smiling and unlacing his shoes. She pulled his shoes off, then his socks. “Sit up.” She pulled his shirt over his head and he laid back down. Then she unfastened his pants and he raised his hips so she could pull them down and off his legs.

“Let me get you a glass of water.” She walked back to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water for him. He drank half the water down and put it on his nightstand. He watched Clarke undress and pulled the covers back for her to join him.

“I want to tell you something,” he said softly.

“You can tell me tomorrow, okay?” she asked.

“Okay,” he said. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for staying.”  
She smiled against his chest, but he couldn’t see her eyes tearing up in the dark.

“I love you, Clarke,” he mouthed silently. 

Bellamy woke up to the sun bright in his face. His first thought was a recognition that he had had way too much to drink. His second thought was that Clarke had finally spent the night in his bed. He rolled over, expecting to see her, but the bed was empty. Had he imagined it? He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked at the nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat there. No, he hadn’t imagined it. Clarke had brought him a glass of water and then laid down next to him. He rose slowly from the bed, cursing his hangover and made his way to the bathroom. She wasn’t there. He hobbled down the hallway to the kitchen. No Clarke.

“Clarke?” he called towards the stairway. “Are you up there?” Silence. He made his way to the living room and pulled the shade open. Her car was gone.

“Okay,” he thought to himself. “She probably had an early surgery. She must have told me and I just forgot.”

He texted her, thanking her again for the party and telling her to text him back as soon as she could. He took a long, hot shower, pulled on some sweat pants and made himself breakfast.

Two hours later, he hadn’t heard from her. He texted again. By nightfall, he had sent three more texts and left her a voicemail. He didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or panicked. He sent a text to Monty, asking if he had seen Clarke. Monty responded almost immediately. Yes, Clarke had been at work that day. She’d gone home around 4:00 in the afternoon.

He wasn’t sure what to feel then. He fell asleep on the sofa in front of the TV. The next morning, he was pretty certain he’d been ghosted by the love of his life. He thought of his birthday wish the night before.

“Why didn’t you wish for her to stay forever, not just for the night?” He thought. “Sometimes, Bellamy Blake, irony can be funny. This is not one of those times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note here...we're about half way through at this point. You may have noticed we've added a couple of chapters and may need to add one or two more as we go. This has taken on a life of it's own and we're just going with it. 💜  
> We hope you like it as much as we do! So let us know how we're doing. Please feel free to comment and tell us how you're feeling about the story. We love to hear your thoughts and feelings about it. As do most writers, we live for kudos and comments! 🥰  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Kris


	10. She Was Born in Spring, But He Was Born Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke are both facing ghosts from the past. They discover the obstacles of their past traumas may be more than they can overcome.
> 
> This is a whole chapter full of angst.

*****************************************************************************************************************

Clarke checked her phone. Four new texts from Bellamy. She put her face in her hands as she sat at her desk. She thought of his face, his features at peace as he slept while she’d tiptoed out of his house like a thief. He’d whispered he loved her. She’d heard it and pretended she hadn’t. Nothing made sense about her behavior, especially not to her. She thought back to the young woman she had been when she’d first met Bellamy. Of course that night she’d been upset, had felt betrayed. But she had been so innocent, so ready to give her heart completely to someone, to Bellamy in fact. But the course of her life, her parents’ divorce, her near-fatal accident that claimed Wells’ life, what she thought was the loss of Bellamy, her assault in the following year, the loss of her father, had all changed her into the woman she was now. Less trusting, prone to panic attacks, and overall unwilling to share her heart anymore. After the rape, she felt like she had lost herself. Like she was broken beyond repair and undeserving of Bellamy’s love. It wasn’t fair to him. She knew from Octavia and from Bellamy opening up to her that he was a man deserving of the kind of love she didn’t feel capable of giving.

Monty tapped on the door softly. “Clarke?” he asked. “Your rounds?”

“Yeah, Monty. On my way.” She stood up and left her office, meeting him in the corridor.

“Bellamy texted me yesterday.” Monty said matter-of-factly. “Did you get in touch with him?”

“Oh...um, yeah.” She said briskly.

“Good. He seemed anxious to talk to you.” He looked back at her and frowned. “Everything okay with you two?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re...good,” she said. Monty’s expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced, but he said nothing.

Now she sat in her dad’s bedroom, the room Bellamy had slept in for months, holding the pillow that still smelled like him. The anniversary of one of the worst nights of her life was coming up in two days. The night when she had learned that no matter how safe she felt in her own home, that security could always be breached. That she could always fall prey to pain. She was surprised that the anniversary had snuck up on her this year. Part of her knew it was because she had begun to feel a new level of comfort, with Bellamy sharing her home. But the memory came crashing back to her and she knew she would be forever broken. She knew she would only hurt Bellamy in the long run. So, she had left him, in order to cause him less pain. God, she missed him so much.

On the anniversary, she would make a point of spending that day alone, lighting candles, treating herself to a hot bath and writing her thoughts in her journal. She would look back at her musings from previous years and she could see that the pain was still raw, still palpable. But she could also see that her acceptance of it as part of her was finally softening it around the edges. She could be ready to let someone in, maybe. But not yet. She could explain all this to Bellamy, but she didn’t think it would be fair to make him wait until she was ready when he so clearly was ready for more. It would be far kinder to let him find someone who was truly deserving.

She suddenly missed her dad more than she had in years. The pain struck her like a dagger and she nearly doubled over in her grief. She wanted so much to feel his hand on hers, hear his voice telling her it would be okay. She put the pillow down and walked into the living room, picking up her car keys and heading out the door.

************************************************************************************************************

_He came home and went upstairs to his room, pulling the wad of bills out of his pocket. Ms. Kane had paid him an extra twenty dollars to weed out her ivy beds after he had mowed her grass. He made a mental calculation of how much money he had saved now and if it was enough. The used car he had his eye on was fifteen hundred but he thought he could talk the owner down to twelve. He was within fifty dollars of that now. He grabbed a chair and stood on it to pull the mason jar off the shelf where he had stashed the money he’d been saving for the better part of a year. His hand hit an empty shelf. He felt around, nothing. Increasingly alarmed he started pulling his sweaters off the shelf and throwing them on the floor, along with a box of old trophies and matchbox cars. His belongings were strewn all over the floor and the shelf was utterly, hopelessly empty. His heart was racing. Where was all of his money?_

_“What the hell are you doing in here?” his mom asked loudly from the doorway. “Look at this fucking mess,” she gestured to the floor._

_Bellamy stepped off the chair and regarded her with suspicion. “Mom, I had a jar up here on the shelf,” he began._

_“Why is your room such a mess?” she slurred. He took in her red rimmed eyes and the way she hovered in the doorway, weaving back and forth._

_“You’re high,” he stated flatly. “I want to know where the jar of money is. I had over eleven hundred dollars in it.” He was trying to keep his voice steady, but the rage was just below the surface making it quaver slightly. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, waiting for her to speak._

_“I needed it,” she said with a shrug._

_“You needed it,” he repeated. “You needed eleven hundred dollars? That I mowed grass, painted fences, raked leaves, walked dogs, and washed cars for?” He took a step toward her and she backed up, shrinking from his quiet anger. “What did you need it for, mom?”_

_She looked at her fingernails. “I don’t have to tell you that,” she said. “You live here, eat my food, use my water and electricity. You think all that is free?”_

_Bellamy was shaking with rage. “You didn’t pay the mortgage with that money. And you didn’t pay bills with it either. You bought your god damned drugs with it, you FUCKING ADDICT!” He was screaming now, out of control, but not caring. He advanced further toward Aurora, forcing her to back out into the hallway._

_Octavia opened her door slightly and peeked out. “What’s going on?” she called out._

_“Octavia, stay out of this,” Bellamy said sternly. She shut her door again._

_Bellamy had grown a lot over the summer. He was taller than his mother by at least four inches now and his shoulders were broad and muscled from hours he spent doing yard work and odd jobs. A flicker of fear passed over Aurora’s face before her eyes turned cold and her mouth set firmly in a mask of indignation. She appeared to be considering her words carefully before she spoke, determined to cause maximum pain._

_“You’ve been such a burden to me for sixteen years,” she said. “I gave birth to you, I raised you, I kept a roof over your head and clothes on your back,” she straightened up to her full height, her own rage overflowing as she spat out her words. “I never asked for anything from you. But all you do is take, take, take.” She could sense a shift in Bellamy’s posture, a softening of his features as he stood there, his fists clenched, jaw set. “So what if I finally got paid back a little for all that trouble?” She continued. “What’s yours is mine as long as you live under MY roof.” She shook her head and delivered her final blow. “I should have just left you with your father.”_

_At that, the world began to spin in front of Bellamy’s eyes. He closed them and shook his head, positive he hadn’t heard her correctly. He opened his eyes to see his mother still standing in front of him, a self-satisfied look on her face. “You told me he was dead,” he said quietly. “You told me...”  
  
“I lied,” she smirked. “Lesson in life, son. Don’t ever trust anyone.” Bellamy’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a vice like grip. She yelped and tried to free herself. “Let go of me,” she yelled._

_“Tell me where he is,” he demanded._

_Aurora stepped closer to him and looked up at his face. “You look just like him. You know that? And you act just like him too, all self-righteous and moralizing, judging me.” she said. “It’s why I hate you.”_

_Bellamy blinked back tears and released her wrist. “Mom, just tell me. Please. Where’s my father?”_

_“Fuck...you...Bellamy,” she said. She spit in his face and turned to go back downstairs, leaving him standing on the landing, wiping his face._

_He walked back into his room and sat on his bed and began crying. He wasn’t aware Octavia was there until he felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up and she handed him five wadded up single bills._

_“I’m sorry she took all your money, Bell,” she whispered. It made him cry harder, for the fact that Octavia had heard them fighting, that she was also without a mother she could trust. He put his hand on top of hers._

_“Keep your money, O,” he said. “I’m fine.” He stood up and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “I’m going out for a little while,” he told her. “Try to get mom to eat something if you can. It’ll do her good.”_

_He walked down the stairs and past his mother who was laying on the couch. It would be the last time he ever saw her alive._

************************************************************************

It had been seventeen years since that night. And every year on the anniversary of her death, he tortured himself with the same memory. “Well, mom. I guess you gave me at least one piece of advice I could use,” Bellamy said to the empty chair next to him. “Don’t ever trust anyone.” He drained his beer and motioned for Raven to bring him another one. She had been working there, tending bar, since her own surgery and recovery, waiting to be able to go back to active duty. She put a beer up on the counter and popped it open.

“Come get it yourself, Blake,” she called. “Your leg is no worse off than mine.” She watched him hobble to the bar and wrap his hand around the bottle as he threw another five in her direction.

“You might want to slow down, Bellamy,” she said with more concern. “I don’t want you to get hurt on your way home.”

“I walked here,” he said.

“Yeah, well walking isn’t exactly your best skill these days,” she said. “Especially if you’re shit faced. Last one, okay?”

He nodded and took the beer back to his table, thrusting his legs out in front of him and staring out the window. It had been four days now. Four days and no response from Clarke. His texts had gone unanswered. The voicemails he left had been unreturned. He sat, brooding, playing in his mind their conversations leading up to the last time he saw her. But damned if he could come up with anything that hinted at Clarke just...disappearing out of his life. He had an appointment with her tomorrow, one that had been made weeks ago. He was intent on finally getting some answers.

The next day, he arrived at the medical complex. He signed in, took a seat in the waiting room and fidgeted for the next fifteen minutes until his name was called. He rose from his seat and followed the nurse into the corridor and the exam room. “The doctor will be right with you,” she said, closing the door.

Bellamy paced the room, ignoring the gown he had been instructed to put on. He was still pacing when there was a light tap on the door and it opened. He stared at the young man who walked in.

“You’re not Dr. Griffin,” he said.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” the man replied. He gestured to the gown. “And you’re not ready for your exam.”

“Where is my usual doctor?” Bellamy asked. “My appointment was with her.”

“Dr. Griffin asked me to take some of her patients today,” the man said. “She’s trying to catch up on some reports and the check-ups she had today were all routine. I can assure you, I’ll be able to take care of your exam.” He smiled at Bellamy and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Lahiri.”

Bellamy took the man’s hand grudgingly. “Bellamy Blake,” he said.

“I know,” the doctor said. “I wanted to thank you for what you did...saving all those people in the earthquake. You’re a...”

“If you can give me a minute, I’ll get ready,” Bellamy said, picking up the gown. He damn sure didn’t want to hear anyone call him a fucking hero again.

“Of course,” the doctor said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

After he was finished and had made his follow up appointment, Bellamy got in his truck and sat for several minutes, fuming. He started the engine, sat for another minute, then turned it off.

“God damn it,” he muttered. He punched the steering wheel and then got out of the truck and walked back into the building.

He walked past the check-in desk and down the corridor. Unbelievably, no one tried to stop him. By the time he got to Clarke’s office door, he was so angry he didn’t bother to knock. He flung the door open to find her sitting behind her desk, her head bent over a report on her desk. She looked up and her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise.

He stood there, glaring at her, until she finally cleared her throat and spoke. “Bellamy. Hi. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your appointment.”

He threw up his hands. “Well, you know. It was just a routine exam. Nothing special. Right?”

“Bellamy,” she began. “Sit down. Please.”

“I don’t want to sit. I want to know what the hell is going on with you. You haven’t returned my texts or calls. It’s been four days. You baked me a cake, you threw me a birthday party, you slept at my house. And then you disappeared.”

“Bellamy,” she was starting to look like a trapped animal, her eyes darting to the door and back to his face. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I...”

“You what? You’ve been busy?” his eyes were boring into hers. She looked away. “Look at me,” he demanded. She looked back at him and his face softened a little bit. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I just. I felt like I needed to treat our relationship with more...professionalism.” She said. “I’m your doctor.” He held up his hand to stop her, now angrier than ever.

“You’ve been riding my cock for six months, Clarke!” he yelled. “So I think you and I must have very different definitions of professionalism.” He saw her glance to the door in the hopes that no one had heard him outside. “Am I embarrassing you?” he spat. “You don’t want anyone here to know you’ve been fucking some low life army bum?” He shut the door and walked further into the room.

“Bellamy! Please!” she was tearing up. “That’s not it. I’m not embarrassed.”

“Then what? What is it? Did I do something wrong? Did I push you into something?” The pain written all over Bellamy’s face made Clarke feel weak and she sank her head into her hands.

“Clarke?” he asked, his voice now soft. “Please talk to me. I don’t understand what happened.”

She looked up at him, standing there in front of her, misery in his eyes, and tried to form a response. “Bellamy, the direction we were headed was just...too much for me. I don’t know if I can...go there, right now.”

“Too much for you?” he asked. “What direction is that? Because I don’t even know what direction to go from here if I don’t know the destination. I felt like we had something, and I don’t know exactly what it was, but it WAS something. And I thought that’s how you felt, too. I opened up to you. I told you things I’ve never told anyone else. And you...you opened up to me, too.” He paused and watched her struggle to come up with something to say. When she didn’t, he blew out a sigh and shrugged angrily. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry if I misinterpreted all of that.” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. 

He turned towards the door and had his hand on the knob when she finally spoke.

“Bellamy. You deserve better than me,” she whispered. He looked back at her and shook his head.

“You don’t know me, Clarke. You don’t know what I deserve.” He opened the door. “Keep my number, though. You never know when you’ll need a good fuck.” He slammed the door behind him.

*****************************************************************************

He stood in the driveway and waved at Andrew as the car pulled away. The little boy had continued to visit him every week. His new foster family had been in favor of keeping up the relationship, knowing the story behind Bellamy’s heroic rescue of Andrew and the others at the hospital. He had come to look forward to these visits more and more when he had been staying with Clarke, and now when the boy left, his own house seemed so silent and still. This last visit with Andrew troubled him. The little boy had confided that his foster family would not be letting him stay much longer. They were expecting a child and the house was simply not going to have enough room. The couple was kind, Bellamy could tell. But Andrew had apparently no real emotional attachment to them as he told Bellamy about his upcoming return to the group home. Once he left, Bellamy moved through the house, picking up Legos and comic books and thinking to himself about how close he and Octavia had come to being brought up the same way. He remembered the panic he woke up with for two years after his mother died, thinking he would be found out, that child protective services would be called, that he and Octavia would be separated.

After he had straightened up the house, he sat down on the sofa and turned the TV on, disliking the quiet. A plan began to form in his mind and the more he considered it, the more real it became as a possible future for himself, for Andrew. He was still lost in thought when his cell phone buzzed. He glanced down at it and frowned, then picked it up and answered.

“Reyes?” he asked.

“Hey Blake,” she said. “Are you...uh...busy?”

He snorted, thinking to himself ‘when am I ever busy?’ “Not really. Why?”

He heard Raven sigh heavily. “I’m at work. And the doc is here.”

“The doc?”

“Doctor Griffin. Clarke.” Raven said. “She’s pretty wasted, Bellamy. And she asked about you. She’s about to leave and walk to your house. And I thought...maybe you should either come get her or talk to her and tell her not to. I’m going to call her an Uber if you can’t.”

“Fuck,” he breathed into the phone. He paused for a long time.

“Bellamy? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m coming over. Just try to get her stay put,” he said, hanging up.

He hadn’t spoken to Clarke since storming out of her office a week ago. He had been sorely tempted many times, but his pride and his pain had prevented him from doing so. The fact that she also hadn’t texted or called him had pretty much convinced him it was over. Whatever had happened between them, he had been reading it entirely differently than she had. So why was she now at a bar just down the street from his house, drunk, and planning on coming to see him?

“Damn it, Clarke,” he said to the empty room. He stood up and pulled his jacket on and grabbed his keys.

*****************************************************************************

Clarke sat at the table, throwing back the last shot of tequila. She didn’t know what she thought she was going to find here. Bellamy? The ghost of her dad, sitting at the bar and smiling at her when she walked in. God, she missed them both so much. She thought of Bellamy and hugged her arms to herself. She missed the way he made her feel like she was almost whole again. The way he smiled at her and made her world feel more care free and full of life. The way he felt like home. Damn it…she loved him. She was in love with him. Who was she kidding, she had been in love with him since the moment they met. And she knew he loved her in return. She hadn’t felt the feeling of being loved since her dad had died. It was time to talk to him.

************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy walked in the bar and glanced around. Clarke wasn’t there. Raven motioned him over.

“She went to the bathroom,” she explained. “She’s had six shots of tequila.” Something about that statement pinged in Bellamy’s memory. He frowned and shook his head at Raven.

“Why would you even serve her that much?” he asked.

Raven shrugged. “It’s a bar. We serve drinks. Besides, I thought she might be ordering for two people. She took ‘em, three at a time, over to that table.” She gestured to the table where Bellamy always sat, by the window. His eyes traveled to the table, the six empty shot glasses, a cell phone. His memory pinged again.

“Give me a couple of glasses of water, please,” he said. He took the waters to the table and sat down, staring in the direction of the bathrooms. Clarke emerged, weaving uncertainly across the room. When she saw him, she froze. Then she moved more cautiously to the table and sat across from him. He said nothing, just pushed a glass of water in front of her.

She took a sip, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and finally spoke. “You’re here,” she said.

“So are you,” he responded, crossing his arms in front of him.

Clarke bit her lip and shifted in her chair. “Bellamy, I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said.

“Oh yeah? What prevented you?” he asked, his voice laced with bitterness.

“You’re angry,” she said.

“You’re drunk,” he countered.

“You’re right,” she pointed at him. “Soooo perceptive, Lt. Blake.” She gave a little salute and drank some more water.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her struggle to find her words. There was another tickle in the back of his brain. Was it the way the light was reflecting on her hair? The way she held her glass of water, upturned with her pinky finger extended? Like a...princess? He rubbed his eyes and stood up. This whole thing was giving him a strange feeling. He didn’t like it.

“Let me get you home,” he said, extending his hand. She took it and stood up quickly, her feet unsteady. As she toppled into his arms, he felt it again. He’d done this before. THEY had done this before.

He waved to Raven and helped Clarke out the door.

“Are you taking me to your house?” she asked. He ignored her question and led her to his truck.

“Because I’d really like to spend the night,” she said. “We can just talk, if you want.”

They were in front of his truck and he opened the passenger door, helped her step in, and reached across her to buckle her seat belt. She grabbed his wrist. “Please.”

“Clarke, I don’t want to talk. You’re drunk and I’m pissed off and I don’t know what there is to talk about.” He jerked his arm away and shut the door to walk around to the driver’s side.

He sat with his hands on the steering wheel not starting the ignition for a long time, just staring straight ahead. He could feel his resolve weakening, the nearness of her, the smell of her hair and the way her touch had electrified him. He was inwardly cursing himself. He could feel her watching him and he didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to see those blue eyes, didn’t want to be drawn in like that, to give in to his weakness.

“You can stay in the guest room,” he said simply, starting the truck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his forearm.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

He had to practically carry her inside and into the guest room upstairs. He brought her another glass of water and slipped her shoes off for her. He left again and came back with an extra pillow and one of his t-shirts and handed it to her. He looked down while she undressed and pulled the shirt over her head and slipped out of her jeans. When he looked up, she was sitting on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to sit next to her. He sighed, and sat down, his hands tightly clasped together to keep himself from touching her.

They sat in silence for a minute. She spoke first, giving him a hopeful smile. “You really are a prince, you know?”

_Damn it, what the hell is happening?_ He thought to himself. He stood up and pulled the covers aside so she could get under them. She was nearly asleep and he stood there for a minute, the dim light from the hallway illuminating her face. He was still in love with her. It’s not like he had thought he wasn’t. But he had hoped, maybe foolishly, that the two weeks apart had given him a better perspective. Clearly, it hadn’t. He turned to leave and heard Clarke speak, barely above a whisper.

“I wish you had just brought me home that night, Bellamy.”

His heart dropped and he stopped moving. “What did you say?” he asked. “Clarke?” He turned and walked back across the room. She was already asleep.

************************************************************************

Clarke woke up, realizing two things simultaneously. One, she wasn’t in her own room, and two, someone was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her brain was fuzzy and she rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly.

Bellamy was sitting with his back to her, cradling something in his hands that she couldn’t see.

“When did you know?” he said, his voice breaking. The pain in his voice made her instantly more alert. She sat all the way up and glanced down at his hands. He was holding the rhinestone crown, turning it slowly and letting the morning light make it sparkle.

“Bellamy,” she said slowly.

“When?” he demanded, still not looking at her.

“I can explain,” she said, reaching out to try and touch him. He flinched away and tears sprang to her eyes. “Please? Let me explain.”

Bellamy stood up and finally looked at her, holding the crown out to her. “This is yours, isn’t it?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, taking the crown from him.

“I need you to get up, get dressed, and get out,” he said, walking out of the room.

Clarke dressed quickly, tears streaming down her face. She walked on shaky limbs downstairs to find Bellamy seated on the floor, his back against the wall, knees drawn up and his head resting on his arms.

She stood there, not certain whether or not to sit down next to him. Wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve she took a deep breath.

“You let me go on thinking you were dead. Why?” he asked, not looking up at her.

“I was going to tell you,” she began. He didn’t say anything. “The night of the earthquake.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, finally looking up at her. “Instead you watched me suffer for months. And yeah, we fucked a lot and that felt really good. But you didn’t give me the one thing you knew would really heal me, Clarke!” he was yelling now, tears in his eyes. “You knew! You knew how much it hurt me to lose you eight years ago. You could have taken that pain away, and you...just...fucked me instead.” He was visibly shaking and Clarke tried to touch his shoulder. He flung her hand away. “Don’t touch me!” he screamed. “Just get out of my house!”

“Please don’t do this, Bellamy,” she cried. “I need to explain. I want...”  
“I don’t care what you want,” he said quietly. “What I want is for you to leave. That’s what you do, isn’t it, Clarke? Leave?” She couldn’t force herself to move. He glared at her, waiting. 

“I can’t believe fate hates me so much that it would have me fall in love with you twice, just so you could break my heart both times,” he said.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. There was nothing she could say. Her tears were blinding her as she stepped past him, opened the door and looked back. “I know it doesn’t matter now,” she said. “And I know you won’t forgive me. But I thought you were dead, too.” She walked out, closing the door softly behind her.


	11. He Told Himself He Didn't Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bellamy has a low opinion of fate's machinations, Clarke finally realizes fate wasn't always working against them.

*****************************************************************************

There was a knock on the door, he opened his eyes, registered the sound, then shut his eyes again. Knocking again, louder this time. He put a pillow over his head. He’d taken to falling asleep on the sofa in the past two weeks. It wasn’t good for any part of his body and he woke up stiff and grouchy with his head pounding. But he didn’t want to be in his bed, in his room, the last place she’d been with him. Not yet. He scowled as the knocking came a third time and rose slowly from the couch.

“Coming,” he growled, running his hands through his hair. It had grown out significantly, along with his facial hair.

He opened the door to find his sister there with a bag of groceries in her arms. They stared at each other for a second.

“You need a haircut,” she said.

“I need a lot of things,” he replied.

“Well, are you going to let me in?” she asked. He ran his hand over his jaw and nodded, stepping back to make way for her.

“You look like shit,” she said airily as she walked past him, eyeing the empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

“Thanks, sis,” he said. “Nice to see you, too.” He looked out the door. “No family with you?”

“It’s just me,” she said, putting the bag on his counter and turning to regard him more seriously. “We need to talk.”

“We do?” he asked.

“Bellamy,” she sighed. “You’ve been ignoring my texts, you haven’t returned my calls. This isn’t like you. And I want to know what’s going on. I texted Clarke too, but she...”

He cut her off abruptly. “You don’t need to text Clarke, O. She isn’t going to be able to tell you anything about me.” This made her frown.

“She’s your doctor,” she said slowly. “And, also, I thought the two of you were...”

“We’re not,” he said flatly. “And she’s not my doctor anymore either. I don’t need regular checkups. I have a PT. That’s it.” He tried to change the subject. “Speaking of my PT, she and Murphy are seeing a lot of each other. I think they might…”

Octavia shook her head, cutting him off mid-sentence. “That’s great, Bell. But I’m not interested in Murphy’s love life. Look at me.”

He finally made eye contact with his sister. She stepped closer to him and put her hand out to take his. “Please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened with Clarke?”

“Do you want a beer?” he asked, pulling away from her and opening his fridge.

“Sure. If it’ll get you talking,” she said. He produced two beers, opened them, and handed her one.

He took a long drag from his bottle and then said, “Clarke wanted to have a more professional relationship. She stopped responding to my calls, and my texts.”

“What the hell does that mean? More professional?” Octavia asked.

“I guess it means she doesn’t want to fuck me anymore,” he said.

Octavia bit her lower lip and then took a sip of her own beer. “Jesus, Bell. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

He turned and headed to the sofa, throwing himself down onto it. She followed him and sat down beside him.

“I really thought she was the one,” he finally said. “I mean, I didn’t want to push her into anything too fast, but we were...or at least I was...feeling like it was going somewhere.” He was gazing at the floor and Octavia put her hand on his forearm, remaining silent. She knew Bellamy as well as she knew herself. He would talk when he was ready.

“Then she came over, about a week after she called things off.”  
“She came here?” Octavia asked quietly. He nodded.

“She was drunk, I brought her home from the bar. And,” he took a deep breath. “I found out who she really was.” He was fiddling with the label on his beer, picking at the edge of it, pulling it from the bottle. Octavia scooted closer to him, noticing the way his jaw was clenched.

“Bellamy,” she whispered, stroking his head. “It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”

“Do you remember the girl I told you about? The one I met that night in the bar, that died in a crash?” He looked at her and she could tell he was fighting tears. She was starting to get scared.

“I remember,” she said.

“It was Clarke,” he said flatly. “She didn’t die, apparently.”

Octavia stared at him, her mouth open in shock. “What do you mean, that was Clarke?”

“I mean, Clarke was dressed in a pink princess gown eight years ago, walked into a bar, sat at a table, talked to me about her life, then vanished.” He took another swig of his beer. “And, to top all that off, she’s the daughter of my first CO, Jake Griffin. So...fate has sure as hell fucked with me over the years.” He chuckled bitterly. “What a joke, huh?”

“Bellamy. I don’t understand. You said she died. You went to the hospital.”

“I didn’t even know her fucking name!” He yelled. “Yeah, I went to the hospital, they told me everyone in the accident died. And I left. You know the rest.”

“Well, okay. But Clarke didn’t know your name either. So she didn’t know how to find you.” Octavia said. “She probably didn’t realize who you were.”

“Octavia,” he looked at her as a tear finally spilled from his eye. “She found me six months ago. She knew it was me the first time we met. She knew it was me this entire time. But she didn’t tell me.”  
  
“Why the hell not?” Octavia said. She was started to feel a rising fury at the woman who had caused her brother this much pain.

He shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No. I just told her to get the hell out of my house.” He watched Octavia as she absorbed this information. “I mean, I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about her. Or how I could ever trust her again. So there was nothing else to say.”

Octavia stood slowly, walked to the kitchen, and put her half-finished beer on the counter. She walked back into the living room and looked at Bellamy, his head down, wringing his hands together as he fought his emotions.

“Someone needs to ask her, Bellamy,” she said. He looked up at her and started shaking his head.

“No, Octavia. You can’t do that. Promise me you aren’t going to talk to Clarke.”

She walked over and bent down, kissed him on the top of the head. “I love you, big brother. But I can’t make that promise.”

She pulled her keys from her jacket pocket and left him sitting on the sofa.

Within minutes, Octavia was pulling into Clarke’s driveway. She had texted Lincoln that she would be a little later coming home. She sat in the driveway, taking a deep breath, knowing from her experience as a lawyer that everyone responded differently to interrogation, but no one responded favorably to an all-out attack. But Bellamy’s pain wasn’t something she’d ever been able to ignore, and she wasn’t about to start now. The person responsible for that pain owed her some answers.

She walked up and rapped loudly on the door. A minute later, Clarke appeared, wearing yoga pants, her hair up in a messy bun.

“Octavia! Hi...I wasn’t expecting you,” Clarke said.

“I would have called first, but I knew you weren’t going to answer, since you haven’t answered any of my other calls,” Octavia said. She had her hands on her hips, in full lawyer mode. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure,” Clarke said.

Octavia followed her into her living room and stood, looking around.

“It seems like I was just here, moving Bellamy in so you could take care of him,” she said.

“Yeah,” Clarke said. “It does. How is he?”

Octavia regarded her for a minute. “How is he? How do you think he is? He’s a fucking wreck, that’s how he is.”

Clarke appeared stunned. “I’m...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?” Octavia asked. “Because he told me that you just broke things off with him. He moved back into his house, and you just vanished. Right after his birthday. And right before the anniversary of our mother’s death. Those are both bad occasions for him and you just made it worse.”

“Octavia, please let’s sit down,” Clarke said, gesturing to her sofa.

Octavia removed her jacket, flung it across the back of chair and sat. Her eyes shot daggers into Clarke’s as she faced her.

“You promised me you wouldn’t hurt him,” she said. “You looked me in the eye and you promised me you wouldn’t hurt my brother. And you broke his heart. I can see it in his face, hear it in his voice. And I want to know why.”

Clarke was accustomed to dealing with strong, opinionated women. Her own mother as a prime example. But she was intimidated by this brunette sitting across from her, glaring at her like she would just as soon punch her in the face as hear what she had to say.

“I know you won’t believe this, and I don’t blame you,” she said. “But it would have hurt Bellamy a lot more if I hadn’t broken things off with him.”

Octavia shook her head. “That makes no sense at all. You’re right. I don’t believe you. Try harder.” Her rapid fire response set Clarke in defense mode.

“I don’t feel like I have to explain my whole life to you, okay? I’m sorry that Bellamy is hurting. But I would never be able to make him happy. He deserves someone else.”

Octavia snorted. “That, I do believe. He definitely deserves better.”

Clarke felt the sting of the insult and fought back tears of anger and of her own pain.

Octavia continued. “I told you before that he is the best man I’ve ever known. And I meant it. I told you the kinds of things he was willing to do to take care of me. When he loves someone, there is nothing he won’t do for them. He would love you with his entire heart. No one would ever love you the way he would. Clarke, you’re a fool. You’ll never find someone like him again.”

Clarke put her head in her hands. “I know,” she said quietly.

Octavia was ready to push the knife in further.

“You couldn’t even tell him who you were. That’s the worst part. Do you know how long he mourned for you? Do you? God damn it Clarke, look at me!”

Clarke looked up and Octavia kept talking. “He’s never had another girlfriend since that night. It’s like no one else could compare to this girl he thought was dead. He has denied himself happiness for eight fucking years. And then you came along and he was different. He really was. I saw it, Clarke. He was finally opening up to the idea of loving someone.” Octavia threw up her hands in disgust. “I can’t believe you would be so cruel.”

Clarke wiped her eyes and stood up. “I can’t say anything that will change your mind about me, so I guess you should go. Please tell Bellamy I’m sorry.”

Octavia stood and pulled her jacket on. “So that’s it? No explanation?” She shook her head. “Please, promise me one thing.”

“What?” Clarke asked.

“Promise me you will never call my brother again. Just leave him alone, for good. Let him forget you. I mean it.”

Clarke nodded and remained silent. Octavia walked to the door and stopped. “Then again, I know your promises don’t mean anything,” she said as she let herself out.

*******************************************************

**One month later**

Murphy was sitting on Bellamy’s sofa, watching him grimace as Emori finished stretching his leg. He had arrived a few minutes early intentionally so he could see her.

Bellamy threw an ice pack on his leg and lay with his arm slung over his face. She patted his thigh and stood up.

“You’re almost 100 percent, Bellamy,” she said. “I think we can go down to one visit a month now.”

“Great,” he said from behind his arm. “I’ll miss you.”

She laughed. “I doubt it. But seriously, you really are doing well. How do you feel?”

Bellamy flopped his arm down. “I feel good, Emori. And I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

Emori sat down next to Murphy on the sofa and leaned her head on his shoulder. He put his hand on her thigh and smiled at her. “Call me later?” he asked. She nodded and kissed him quickly on the lips. Bellamy was still laying on the floor, watching Murphy watch Emori. He laughed.

“Bye Emori,” he called. “See you in a month.”

He turned to Murphy as he was sitting up.

“Hey, let’s go get a beer,” Murphy said. “It’s on me.”

Bellamy considered it for a minute. “I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “Let me take a quick shower.”

He was back in a few minutes with wet hair, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket.

They decided to walk the short way to the bar. Bellamy was still sore from his physical therapy and had a slight limp. Murphy slowed his pace without comment, lighting up a cigarette as he walked.

“Those things will kill you,” Bellamy commented.

Murphy shook his head. “Not me, man. I plan on living forever.”

They walked in the bar and Bellamy took a seat at their usual table while Murphy walked to the bartender, returning with two beers. They tipped their bottles to each other.

“To recovery,” Murphy said, taking a long drink.

“To recovery,” Bellamy mumbled.

“So catch me up,” Murphy said. “Tell me how you’ve been spending your time, other than growing out your facial hair.”

Bellamy stroked his chin. “You like it?”

“No, not really,” Murphy said. “The hair’s good though. You know what they say. Curls get the girls.”

Bellamy grinned. “Yeah, well, they say a lot of things.”

Murphy’s face grew serious. “Listen, Bellamy. I’m sorry you and the doc didn’t work out. For what it’s worth, I thought you two were really great together.”

Bellamy had already finished half his beer and nodded while swirling the half-empty bottle around in his hand. “I thought so, too. But, I was wrong.”

“Have you talked to her? At all?” Murphy asked.

Bellamy shook his head. “What would I say?”

“I don’t know. That you love her, maybe? I mean it’s clear that you do.”

“I tried that, actually,” Bellamy said, polishing off his beer. “And we can see how that turned out.”

“Shit,” Murphy said under his breath. “I wish I could do something. Do you want me to talk to her?”

“You?” Bellamy snorted. “Ah, no thanks.”

“Hey, I can be charming,” Murphy said. “Emori agrees.”

Bellamy grinned at him. “She is clearly biased.”

“Yeah, she loves me. What can I say?” Murphy grinned back.

“I’m happy for you, Murphy. Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day you got tied down.”

“Well, I’m not ready to say Emori is the one just yet, but,” he paused. “Yeah, I am. That’s what I’m saying. She’s the one.”

They both laughed.

“I’ll get you another,” Murphy offered, going to the bar and coming back with two more. The speed that Bellamy started downing his second beer caused Murphy to raise his eyebrows but he remained silent. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing Bellamy drink so much.

Bellamy excused himself to go to the bathroom and came back with four more beers and a shot of whiskey. He placed two bottles in front of Murphy, threw the shot back, and then sat down and proceeded to drink his third beer.

“Don’t you want to slow down a bit there?” Murphy asked, concern in his eyes.

“Why? The sooner I’m drunk, the sooner I can go to sleep,” Bellamy replied.

Murphy sighed. “Look, Bellamy. I know you’ve had a rough few months. And I know Clarke hurt you. But it’s going to get better. I hate to see you like this.”

Bellamy eyed him over his upturned bottle, then put the empty back on the table.

“It’s getting better by the minute,” he replied, picking up the last beer on the table.

Murphy frowned and excused himself to go to the restroom. On the way he passed by the bartender and subtly asked him to stop serving Bellamy if he ordered any more. He went to the hallway leading to the bathroom and pulled out his phone, considering whether to call Octavia, Miller, or no one. “Damn it,” he said under his breath.

********************************************************

Clarke looked at her watch. Her shift had been over for almost an hour. For the last few weeks, she had been delaying going home, facing the emptiness, walking past the room Bellamy had stayed in and trying not to crack the door open to see if by some miracle he was there. She had kept her promise to Octavia. She hadn’t called him and he hadn’t called her. So, it truly was over, but the ache in her heart proved she wasn’t convinced.

“Clarke,” Monty said from the doorway. “Please do us both a favor and call Bellamy. I’m actually begging.”

She looked up and gave him a half-smile. “Monty, you know I can’t.”

“No,” he said, walking in to her office. “I know you won’t. What I don’t know is why not? Clarke, I’ve never seen you happier than when you two were spending time together. I miss that. Don’t you?”

“I would hurt him, Monty. Don’t you get it?” She didn’t know whether to be frustrated or grateful that he was standing there, forcing her to talk.

“Hurt him? Clarke, the man survived a building collapsing on him. From what I know about him, he’s willing to take you as you are. And I know you don’t think you’re perfect. None of us are. But Bellamy knows that, too. He’s not expecting perfect. Trust me on this.”

Clarke smiled at him. “You’re wise beyond your years, Nurse Green.”

“I know. So call him, for everyone’s sake.” Monty said. “And go home.”

She decided to treat herself to Thai take out on the way home. She had called ahead so all she had to do was pop in and grab the food. She parked just outside and walked in, already imagining how good it would feel to go home, slip off her shoes and eat her food directly from the take out container in front of the TV. She was focused on the pick-up counter when she heard a male voice call out.

“Clarke?”

She turned and her mouth opened in surprise when she saw a man seated at a table with a visibly pregnant woman sitting across from him.

“Hi,” she squeaked out. “Finn.”

He stood up and approached her, giving her a hug, which she awkwardly accepted, looking down at the woman who was beaming at her. When Finn broke the embrace he gestured to the woman.

“This is my wife, Alycia,” he said.

“You’re expecting,” Clarke said, immediately regretting it. “I mean, nice to meet you.”

The woman gave a small laugh. “We are. And it’s nice to meet you, too Clarke.”

“Clarke and I were in school together, years ago,” Finn said. “God, it seems like ages, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it sure does,” Clarke said.

“How’ve you been?” Finn asked.

“Good. I’ve been good,” Clarke said. _At least until I walked into this fucking restaurant_ , she thought to herself. “Well I’ll let you two get back to your dinner. I’m just picking up take-out.” She suddenly felt the need to get out as fast as possible, her appetite gone, her heart racing. “Nice to see you, Finn.”

She began driving toward home, not even noticing when she took a turn that led her directly to the bar she had always gone to for comfort. She pulled up and sat in her car, considering what to do next.

“Just one drink,” she thought. “Calm myself down.” Her Thai food had lost its appeal, sitting in the white paper bag on the passenger seat. Her evening was already ruined, so why not just go in for a few minutes? Maybe Raven would be tending bar and she could find out if Bellamy was okay. She got out of the car and walked toward the bar, stopping suddenly when she approached the window and saw him, sitting at the usual window table, with a woman. The woman had her arm draped over his shoulder and her face intimately close to his. Bellamy had his head down, listening to something she was saying. His hair was longer and shaggy and he had grown out his beard. He brought his eyes up to the woman’s and before Clarke could register what was happening, he pulled the woman into a deep kiss. She froze, her keys still in her hand, tears forming in her eyes. She watched in utter disbelief for a split second, then turned and practically fled back to her car. She put her head down on the steering wheel and sighed.

“I deserve this,” she thought as she started the car and drove home.

*******************************************************

In the end, Murphy had opted to call neither Miller or Octavia. What the hell kind of friend was he if couldn’t support Bellamy on his own? He went to the bathroom and froze on his way back to the table. A blond woman was sitting in his vacated chair and Bellamy was kissing her. “What the fuck?” he said to himself as he approached the table.

He cleared his throat loudly and the two broke their kiss. The woman beamed up at him. “You must be Murphy,” she said.

“And you must be...someone I’ve never met before,” Murphy said sarcastically. He frowned at Bellamy who was still staring at the woman. “Bellamy. Why don’t you introduce us?” Murphy asked.

“This is Bree,” Bellamy said, his words slurring slightly. “Bree and I used to,” he stopped and looked out the window. “What did we used to do, Bree? Date? Fuck?”

She laughed and waved a hand as though it was all the same thing in her opinion. “I saw Bellamy sitting here all alone and he seemed really lonely, so I thought I’d say hi.”

“So, you’ve said hi now,” Murphy said flatly. “Mind if I have my seat back? Bellamy is my date tonight, sweetheart.”

Bellamy put his chin in his hand and kept looking at Bree. “I think Bree is taking me home tonight,” he said without looking at Murphy. Bree just raised her eyebrows and smiled.

Murphy grabbed Bellamy’s arm and hauled him up from his chair. “Can I have a word with you?” he asked, leading Bellamy away from the table. “I’ll bring him right back, Bree,” he called over his shoulder.

He dragged Bellamy to the bar and shoved him onto one of the stools. Bellamy glared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Murphy?”

“I’m going to ask you the same thing, Bellamy. What the fuck are you doing? That woman has trouble written all over her face. And I don’t know if you noticed the indention on her ring finger, but she’s married.”

Bellamy swiveled his head towards the table and considered what Murphy had said. “So what?” he finally said. He looked back to Murphy. “I swear to God, Murphy. You’re the one always trying to get me laid. Why don’t you go home now and just...let me get laid.”

“Because number one, you’re drunk and about to make a very bad decision. And number two, I know you love Clarke and I know you’re going to regret this.”

Bellamy’s shoulders slumped. “I do love Clarke,” he said. “The problem is, she doesn’t love me back.”

“Well, that’s a problem best dealt with sober and without some jealous husband knocking your door down because you jumped on the Bree train,” Murphy said. “You sit here. I’ll be right back.”

Murphy walked back to Bree, pulled out a ten dollar bill and laid it on the table. “This should cover your drink. You’ll have to find someone else to go home with.”

Bree stood up and regarded Murphy. “I don’t know if you’re being a good friend, or just being an asshole,” she said simply. She grabbed her bag and stood up.

“I can be both,” Murphy said, making sure she left before he returned to Bellamy and led him out of the bar.

**************************************************

_She was looking forward to seeing him. She needed her dad, to hug him, to talk to him. It was time to stop avoiding him. The police may never catch the man who had raped her, but she couldn’t let that destroy everything else in her life. She’d been putting this visit off for weeks, always coming up with an excuse for why she couldn’t come by for a visit. So she found herself now walking into his condo carrying a bottle of his favorite wine._

_“Hey Dad! What’s for dinner?” she called out to him as she walked in the front door._

_“Pasta!” Jake called out from the kitchen “I made your favorite, Shrimp Alfredo. Hope you brought some wine.” She rolled her eyes. He knew her so well. She set the wine down on the counter and leaned down to give her dad a hug. He hugged her back tightly and when he started to pull away, she drew him in for another second._

_He laughed. “You missed your old man, huh?”_

_“I did. So much,” she whispered._

_“I missed you too, sweetie.”_

_She set the table, opened the wine and poured them each a glass, talking a little too fast about all the work keeping her busy, apologizing for not coming by sooner. Jake waved all that away good naturedly._

_“I’m just glad you’re here now,” he smiled at her. She’d always loved her dad’s smiles, the way it seemed like his whole face participated in it._

_They had and enjoyable dinner, which he had made to perfection, as he always did. Once they were finished, she jumped to her feet and started to clear the table, but Jake grabbed her hand._

_“Leave it, I’ll get it later. Bring your wine and join me in the living room Clarke.” He said as he nodded his head towards the living room and pushed his wheelchair in that direction. She followed him into the living room, kicked her shoes off and sat down in her favorite comfy chair, legs curled up under her._

_Jake rolled over by her and looked at her. “Honey, what’s been bothering you so much?” he asked, a concerned look on his face. She hadn’t fooled him. He could always see right through her._

_“Nothing I’m ready to talk about right now Dad,” she replied. “I...I just need to process some of it myself and then I’ll talk about it. Okay? It’s nothing I need to bother you with, really.”_

_“Clarke, I don’t want you to ever think that you would be bothering me by talking to me about something. You’re a strong, kind, brilliant, young woman. And I’m so proud of you.” He smiled at her and took her hand. “But even a fiercely independent person like you might need someone to talk to once in a while. Yeah?”_

_Clarke gave a tiny nod._

_“You can always talk to me about anything. I won’t judge. I won’t even talk back if you don’t want me too. Promise. I love you, honey.”_

_Just hearing those words, she felt a weight lift from her heart. She was still lovable. In Jake’s eyes, she would always be lovable, worthy._

_“Thanks Dad,” she replied and squeezed his hand. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks. You know I can’t ever talk to mom about any of it, but I know I can talk to you, if I need to. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.” She could feel hot tears behind her eyes, so she needed to change the subject._

_“Well, my date was a disaster,” she laughed._

_Jake laughed with her. “I saw that coming.”_

_“Mom seems to think I’m destined to be alone forever unless she intervenes and finds Mr. Right. Or, at least, her version of Mr. Right.”_

_“Yeah, well your Mom’s taste isn’t near as good as it used to be. I mean, she did divorce me.” He took a drink of his wine and looked at Clarke and smiled. “You find your own destiny, Clarke. Don’t let your mom or anyone else try to decide who you love. You deserve someone that will love you with their whole heart. Someone that respects you but doesn’t always take your shit.”_

_She laughed at that._

_“I mean it honey. You deserve all of that and more. And when you find that person, don’t push them away. You do that when you get scared.” He leaned in and hugged her. Clarke already felt better. Her dad always had that effect on her. She smiled and hugged him back._

_Jake sat back up in his chair and winked at her. “But if you do want someone to set you up, let me do it. There’s a young man I’d love you to meet.”_

_“Dad, stop,” Clarke laughed. “You just said I need to find my own destiny.” She paused. “Is he cute?”_

_He laughed loudly. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to ask. But I know I’ve seen him turn a lot of heads. But more importantly, he’s kind. He’s had a rough life, but it didn’t turn him into someone who thinks life has it in for him. He just...keeps going, keeps looking for the right path. He’d treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” He winked at her. “Because if he didn’t, I’d kill him.”_

_Clarke slapped his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”_

_Jake continued, “Well, he’s deployed right now. I’ll try to make sure you get to meet him when he’s back home. Your mom would probably hate him, so don’t mention it to her.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind dad. Thanks for tonight. I’ve needed this more than I realized.” She took her dad’s hand again, but the sensation of him slipping away was creeping into the edges of her brain. “Dad, I don’t want to let go,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”_

_“Don’t be scared, Clarke,” he smiled at her. “Have faith.”_

The sunlight was too bright as it flooded into her eyes and obliterated the memory. She opened her eyes and groaned, looking at the empty wine bottle and half eaten Thai food still sitting on the table. But her father’s words were still crystal clear in her mind.

“Bellamy,” she said, sitting bolt upright. “It was you. It was always you.”


	12. By the Waterfront Docks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a clear vision of her future now. But can she find Bellamy and convince him that their fates really are intertwined?

************************************************************************************************************

Bellamy pulled his truck in past the dock and turned right down a short dirt road. He parked at the edge of the lake and got out, pulling his jacket on. The cool September air was sharper here by the water, but the sky was an incredible blue. The kind of blue you could only see on this kind of day. _Or when you looked in her eyes_. He pushed that thought out of his head and grabbed the six pack that was on the seat next to him. Octavia wouldn’t be here for another hour. He had time to just sit, and drink. It occurred to him that sitting and drinking had become something he did with a lot more frequency, but he pushed that thought away as quickly as he had the image of Clarke.

He walked down to the sandy beach that ran along the water’s edge towards the dock and sat on a log that some campers had apparently dragged there previously. The remains of a campfire were nearby. He picked up a stick and poked around in the ashes as he sipped his first beer. He thrust his left leg out in front of him, cursing the stiffness and pain it still caused him on cold days. His eyes scanned the water, the glint of sunlight playing across the surface, and it brought him back to the times his mother had taken he and Octavia here. Realistically, he knew it hadn’t been more than a handful of times, but in his mind, those events had merged and morphed until they became a complete story instead of just random, misplaced sentences. It hadn’t been only on the rare occasion that she was sober and had enough gas money to drive here. Or when she’d been riddled with guilt about the way she had treated him. In his mind now, it was the place his family always lived. Where they were happy, where he was a brother to Octavia instead of a guardian.

The sound of small children nearby broke him out of his memory. This part of the lake was more secluded and it was unusual that he ever saw another person here at all, especially this time of year. He watched two boys run down the boat ramp and squeal when their feet hit the cold water. Their dad called to them, laughing. He was pulling a canoe down the ramp, helping each boy into it and then himself. They eased away from the shore and paddled in Bellamy’s direction. The smallest boy, nearly swallowed up in his life vest, looked over at Bellamy and waved excitedly. He grinned at him and waved back.

He had moved ahead with his plan to try and foster Andrew, and eventually even adopt him. But two days ago, he had been told his application was under review. He was single, he travelled excessively for work, all the things he knew would be brought up had been. So now, he had to wait and continue hoping that he would somehow, someway, be able to have a family of his own.

Once the father and two boys had paddled out of view, he continued drinking, picking up pebbles and tossing them into the water. As each pebble hit, he focused on the rings expanding out from it, thinking of how lives were like that. The rings would converge, like lives coming together. Octavia, Lincoln, Nyx, Apollo. All the rings rippled and flattened. He threw a pebble far to one side, were the ripples didn’t touch any others. _That one is you, Bellamy,_ he thought to himself. _Not touching another life_.

*****************************************************

“It was always you, Bellamy,” she said again, jumping up from the sofa. She took a quick shower and ate an even quicker breakfast, threw on jeans and a sweater and grabbed her keys. Her phone buzzed, she ignored it, intent on getting into her car and finding him as soon as possible. It kept buzzing even as she was starting to pull out from the driveway. She glanced down.

“Of course,” she muttered. She tapped the speaker on her car. “Hello, mom. What’s up?”

“Clarke? Just checking in,” Abby’s voice was too loud in the car. Clarke turned down the volume, her head pounding. She began pawing through her bag, locating a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowing two without any water to chase them.

“I’m fine. Busy,” Clarke responded. “Listen, I’m on my way out. I’ll have to call you back later.”

“Where are you going? You sound upset.”

“Mom, I’m going to say this and I want you to listen and understand it. In spite of everything you’ve done, you’re my mother and I love you. But I’m on my way to find Bellamy right now and beg him to let me back in his life.”  
  
“Clarke,” her mom began.

“Don’t interrupt,” Clarke barked at her. “I’m going to ask him to forgive me for not telling him who I was when he first showed back up in my life nine months ago. And I’m going to explain your part in all this. But if he doesn’t take me back, mom, I want you to know that you have cost me the love of my life.” Clarke was fighting back tears. “Dad knew him better than you let on. He wanted me to meet him.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I know,” Abby said.

“You know?” Clarke replied bitterly. “Of course you did! Why am I not surprised? Goodbye, mother.” She hung up and hit the accelerator, intent on not wasting another minute of her life by spending it without Bellamy.

In record time, she reached Bellamy’s house, sighing in frustration at the empty driveway. It was 10:00 in the morning, where would he be? She picked up her phone, considering sending him a text, then knew in her heart he wouldn’t answer, so she threw her phone back down on the seat beside her. She could wait. But the emotions threatening to take over her rational thinking were moving in fast. She could feel her chest tightening, her throat constricting. She needed to move. Any inaction was a minute wasted. She backed out of Bellamy’s driveway and kept driving.

Octavia’s house was bigger than Bellamy’s by far, on a quiet tree-line street. Young mothers walked past in pairs, pushing strollers and chatting. Clarke parked her car and sat there, not certain how to proceed. She could see that both Lincoln and Octavia were home, both cars were in the driveway. She had been hopeful that she would see Bellamy’s truck here too, but it wasn’t.

“What’s your plan here, Griffin?” she asked herself. Still not sure what the answer to that question was, she stepped out of her car and walked shakily up to the door. She rang the bell and listened to the sound of approaching footfalls. Lincoln opened the door and looked at her questioningly for a split second before giving her a big smile.

“Clarke! Come in,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first,” she said. “I just...I’m looking for Bellamy and he wasn’t home.”

Lincoln gave a shrug. “No problem. Bell’s not here, though. Octavia is meeting him in a little while,” he stopped talking, clearly recognizing that maybe he shouldn’t be intervening in this. “I’ll just let you talk to her,” he said. “Wait here.”

She stood in the foyer, trying to force herself to be calm. She saw Octavia come down the stairs and tried to smile but it faded as soon as she saw the look on Octavia’s face.

“Why are you here?” were the first words out of her mouth.

Clarke took a deep breath. “I need to find Bellamy,” she said simply. “I thought you could help me. It’s important.”

“Is it about his medical treatment? You can leave me a message and I’ll give it to him,” Octavia said, descending the last stair and standing in front of Clarke, her gaze level but firm and her arms crossed.

“It’s uh...No, it’s not about his treatment. I need to talk to him.”

Octavia shook her head. “I can’t imagine that he wants to talk to you, Clarke. Did you try calling him?”

Clarke shook her head. “I was afraid he wouldn’t answer. And what I have to say needs to be face to face.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “It’s been over a month, Clarke. Why now?”

“How is he?” Clarke asked, ignoring Octavia’s question. “Please, tell me.”

This seemed to soften Octavia just a little. “Honestly? He’s not great. He won’t say it, but I can tell.”

“I need to see him,” Clarke said. “Do you know where he is?”

“I do,” Octavia replied. “I’m just not telling you.” She frowned at her. “Haven’t you hurt him enough, Clarke? And didn’t you make me a promise that you would stay away from him? And just because you feel like you need to see him, he doesn’t need to see you. So, you should go.” She started to open the door and Clarke reached out and put her hand on Octavia’s arm

“Please, Octavia. I have to talk to him. To tell him...’

“Tell him what?” Octavia’s voice rose. “That you’re sorry you broke his heart? Twice? That you’ll never do it again? He doesn’t trust you, Clarke. And he’s not the forgiving kind either. I’m doing you a favor here as well. Move on.” She said this firmly and opened the door.

Clarke didn’t budge. Instead she surprised herself and Octavia by breaking down in tears. “I can’t. I can’t move on, Octavia. Bellamy is... he’s...the love of my life.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth she recognized that she had never said something more truthful in her life. A wave of relief washed over her, followed by a rush of fear at the realization that having said that, she was now in real danger of losing the man she had always loved. And the woman standing in front of her was her last hope. “I need…please, I need to try.” she whispered.

The house was eerily silent as Octavia stared at her. Finally she closed her eyes and bit her lip, taking Clarke’s hand in hers.

“If I tell you where to find him, it doesn’t mean I’m giving you my blessing,” she said. “But I know, as much as I don’t like it, that you’re the only woman he’s ever loved, too.” She dropped Clarke’s hand.

“I was meeting him with the kids at noon today, at the lake. We were going to bring a picnic. I was hoping it would cheer him up.” She regarded Clarke. “I don’t know whether seeing you again is going to do that. I suggest taking him something to eat. The man is always hungry.”

Clarke gave a small laugh as she wiped her tears from her cheeks. “Food. Got it.” She stepped forward and embraced Octavia, who surprised her by hugging her back. “Thank you.” She said as she stepped away.

“Good luck,” Octavia whispered.

*******************************************************

Clarke was now headed to the lake, a picnic basket stuffed with all she could remember of Bellamy’s favorite foods on the seat next to her along with a big, thick blanket. “Please be there,” she whispered as she checked her GPS again. She followed the little road signs for the boat dock and slowed down, her head swiveling back and forth in a search for Bellamy’s truck.

She pulled up to the dock and got out of her car. Putting her hand to her eyes she scanned the water and saw a man in a canoe paddling towards the dock with his two young sons. Her eyes continued to roam the water’s edge and then she spotted a lone figure several yards down, sitting on a log. It was unmistakably Bellamy, his dark hair, leather jacket, long legs extended out in front of him. She felt a tightness in her chest and she took a deep breath and got back into her car, following the little rutted dirt road until she saw his truck. She parked behind it, pulled the picnic basket and blanket out with her and headed toward the water.

“You’ve got this,” she said to herself.

************************************************

Bellamy heard a car door close and called out. “Over here, Octavia!” He heard footsteps approaching. “I hope you brought food. I’m starv...” He turned his head and saw not Octavia, but Clarke walking towards him.

He remained sitting on the log, scowling at her, trying to ignore the fact that his heart was beating twice as fast as it had been just minutes before. He watched her as she set a gigantic picnic basket down and proceeded to spread a big blanket out next to the log he was sitting on. She smiled at him.

“Hi, Bellamy,” she said. He continued to stare at her, the pebbles he had been throwing dropping softly to the ground next to him. Clarke kept talking as though he had responded.

“It’s really beautiful here. I can’t believe I’ve never come out here before,” she began unpacking food from the basket. His eyes trailed to the feast she was setting out. BBQ, potato salad, hard rolls. He finally made eye contact with her and the earnest look on her face, the hope in her eyes, almost cracked him. Almost.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice laced with anger. Clarke’s eyes moved to the four empty beer cans at his feet.  
  
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking like that?” she asked gently.

He narrowed his eyes at her and opened another beer, taking a big drink before addressing her.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be worried about my well-being?” he responded.

He took another drink and shifted his gaze to the water. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?”

She sat down on the blanket and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

“I’m here because you made a promise to me, months ago. And I wanted to make sure you kept it.”

He scoffed. “I made a promise to you? What was that?”

She looked at him and again her expression, her blue eyes, the pain just below the surface made it nearly impossible for him not to take her in his arms and kiss her sadness away. He knew exactly what promise he’d made, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“You promised me a date, Bellamy. We were going to come here, together. Do you remember?” her voice cracked a little.

“I remember,” he sighed, picking up another pebble and throwing it into the water.

“So are you going back on your promise, Lt. Blake?” she asked.

“I made that promise before,” he muttered.

“Before?”

“Before you broke my fucking heart, Clarke! Do you need to hear me say it?” he yelled.

“Bellamy, can we just sit here together and eat? And maybe pretend this really is our first date? The one we never got to have?” Her voice was pleading and soft. He felt his resolve weaken.

“Fine,” he whispered. “I won’t be the one to break a promise. We can eat, and then you can go.”

“Fair enough,” she said, pulling paper plates out and piling food on one for him. He took the plate grudgingly and started eating.

They ate in silence for several minutes and Clarke finally spoke again. “You know, we could talk too, maybe?”

He scowled and stared at his food. “I didn’t promise you I’d talk, did I?”

She laughed and noticed a tiny smile creep around the corners of his mouth. “No, you didn’t. But I have a lot of things I want to talk to you about. If you’re willing to listen.”

“Sure, why not?” he said. She noticed a hint of sarcasm in his voice but ignored it.

“You remember the night I had the panic attack?” she asked. He stopped chewing and nodded without looking at her. “And you remember why it happened,” she said more softly. Bellamy put his plate down beside him and finally stood up to come join her on the blanket. He didn’t say anything until he was sitting down.

“You don’t need to talk about this,” he said. “I know it upsets you.”

She shook her head. “I do need to talk about it, Bellamy. I’ve been not talking about it since it happened and it’s cost me too much.”

He dipped his head and gave her a sideways glance. “Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.”

“The day you moved home was a couple of days before the anniversary of the day I was raped. And every year, I have a little ritual I go through. It sounds crazy, probably. But I spend the day deliberately remembering it, trying to treat myself with kindness, appreciate my life, just...I don’t know...forgive myself.”

Bellamy shifted to face her. “Clarke,” he said. “Look at me.” She brought her eyes up to meet his. “You were assaulted. You have nothing to forgive yourself for. That man was a monster. And the thought of him hurting you...of anyone hurting you...” he couldn’t finish his sentence because he couldn’t really describe how that made him feel. Full of rage, pain, desperation to comfort her. He shut his eyes, afraid he’d already said too much.

He felt her hand touch his lightly, so lightly he thought he’d imagined it. But the electric shock it sent through him told him it was very real. He opened his eyes and she was still looking at him, her own eyes full of pain.

“But I hurt you instead,” she said slowly. “And that’s the thing I need to say. What happened to me has caused me so much pain, but instead of dealing with it, I’ve just avoided it. Until you came back into my life. And then I thought I finally felt safe enough to face it, but I freaked out instead and I hurt you. I can’t forgive myself for that.” Tears were falling down her face. “I felt like I didn’t deserve you. That you shouldn’t have to deal with my anger and pain on top of all of your own.” She caught her breath. “The first night I met you, I felt so safe, so alive at the same time. And then the accident happened and I lost everything. My best friend, you, and then my dad.” she sobbed. “And I was going to tell you who I was when we first met again, and I don’t know why I held back. But then you almost died, and I was your doctor. And I wanted you to love me for who I am, but I’m not the same person I was. I’ve lost too much, including a big part of myself.” Her words just kept tumbling out of her mouth. She couldn’t even plan the next thing she said. She just felt a desperate need to get everything she was feeling out at once.

“It was always you, Bellamy. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. “I...I didn’t expect that.”  
  
Clarke moved her hand back to her own lap. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Bellamy. I just need you to understand that I was doing what I thought was best for you. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought you would be better off without me. And I know I’m being selfish for even coming here, for telling you all this, but...”

“Clarke,” Bellamy said. “Stop talking.” And in an instant his lips were on hers, his hand cradling her head as he shifted closer, kissed her deeper. She opened herself to his kiss, greedy for him, his taste, his heat. She brought her arms around him and pulled him closer, parting her lips so his tongue could explore. He kissed her with a sweetness and a passion that made her racing heart and frenzied thoughts shrink down into a pinpoint, a single notion: she loved Bellamy Blake. And he loved her. And that was all that mattered.

They pulled away from each other and he brought his thumb up to her cheek and gently wiped her tears away.

“I was so angry at you for leaving. I don’t want to feel that way anymore,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you more time. I pushed you. You weren’t ready.”

“No,” Clarke said. “You didn’t push me. You were incredible, always. I never felt so able to be myself before.” She told him about the memory she had had just the night before, of her father. How she had never known her father had wanted to introduce Bellamy to her, and before he had been able to he had died in a freak accident on the base, while he was there visiting Sinclair. A trainee had stumbled, bumped into Jake and sent his wheelchair down a long flight of stairs.

“I wish I had known it was you he wanted me to meet,” Bellamy said. “I would have skipped that last tour of duty I went on and put in for something local.” He laughed. “I thought fate was punishing me all this time. Maybe it was trying to help me and I just missed all the signs.”

“Clarke,” he said. “You told me before you left that you thought I was dead, too. What did you mean?”

Clarke sighed and began to tell him everything. From beginning to end. How after her accident she had been rehabilitating at her mother’s house. How her mother had erased his photo from her phone and brought her a story of his death in action overseas. How she couldn’t confirm it because she had never known his name. How, once she knew the truth, she had kicked herself every day since for not trying harder to find him before and just taking her mother at her word.

Bellamy listened to every word, his face changing from one of confusion to anger when he heard about Abby’s manipulations.

“Why would she lie about me?” he asked. “I don’t even know her.”

“Because she knew you,” Clarke said. “Or at least she thought she knew you. She didn’t want me to get involved with a military man. Like she did.”

“A military man? Or the son of an addict?” he asked quietly. “She must have a really low opinion of me.”

Clarke took his hand. “My mother’s opinion isn’t any of our concern,” she said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sure her opinion has changed since you saved all those people the day of the earthquake.”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. She wants you to marry someone with more status, or money, or...”

“Are we talking about marriage already, Bellamy?” Clarke asked, smiling.

Bellamy’s face flushed and he looked away. When he turned back to face her, he gave her a sly smile. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“I don’t want to talk about my mom anymore,” Clarke said. “Tell me more about you. I want to know everything.”

“Everything?” he asked. “How long do you have?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, laying down on her back on the blanket. “Let’s hear it, Blake.”

And so Bellamy began talking. And once he did, he found he couldn’t stop. He lay down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and told her about his own mother, how he had brought her body out here the night she’d overdosed and worried for the next two years that Social Services would take Octavia from him. He told her that it had been the same night she had taken all of his money and then confessed to him that his father was actually alive and how he now wanted more than anything to find him but had nothing to go on. He told her about the married woman who had exploited his desperate situation as a teenager. He told her more about his engagement to Gina so many years ago, how naïve he had been to think that a family could just be built from sheer will and no real love. His hands moved in front of him as he talked, reminding Clarke of a man conducting an orchestra and the rhythm and cadence of his voice were like a beautiful symphony.

He finished by telling her about his desire to foster Andrew, and maybe adopt him. How it was probably not going to happen since he was single and away from home so much. They looked at each other and she smiled at him.

“Well, what if you weren’t?”

“Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t single,” she whispered.

He sat up and looked out at the water, tossing two pebbles in, this time close together so the ripples intersected. “That would be the best life I can imagine,” he said. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about maybe selling my place,” Clarke said as she sat up. Bellamy looked over at her and waited. “You know, since it was my dad’s. It just has too many memories in it for me. And I realized maybe I need to look ahead...with you.”

He smiled slowly. “I’ve been fixing my place up to sell. Maybe...”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe we look for a place together?” he asked quietly, turning his gaze back to the water so he wouldn’t have to see her face if she rejected his idea.

“That sounds perfect,” she said. He looked back at her and she was grinning at him. He shook his head, not yet ready to believe what he’d heard.

“Really?”

She nodded. “Really.”

Clarke turned to the picnic basket. “I almost forgot dessert,” she said, pulling out a mango and a small paring knife.

“My favorite,” Bellamy smiled. “You remembered.”

“I did,” she said, starting to peel the mango.

She cut a slice off and held it up to his lips. He parted them slowly and let her place it on his tongue, closing his eyes and savoring the tangy, sweet fruit. When he opened his eyes she was still peeling, the tip of her tongue sticking out and just touching the top of her lip as she concentrated. He felt a stirring in his core, a desire that ran deeper than just sexual attraction. It was like a magnet that pulled him to her, that wouldn’t be able to find another pole to cling to even if he lived on the other side of the earth. His eyes flicked down to her wrist as a drop of mango juice ran toward her elbow. Without thinking he took her hand and brought his tongue to her wrist, running it upward towards her palm.

Clarke let out a little ‘oh’ of surprise. Bellamy took one of her fingers in his mouth and sucked it gently, then another, working his tongue around each in turn, pulling his mouth slowly away as he moved on to the next one. She sat perfectly still, the mango still in her other hand, her eyes on his mouth, her own desire starting to cloud any other thoughts. Bellamy took the mango from her hand and cut a slice for her, teasing her with it, letting the juice cover her lower lip before letting her eat it, then leaning in and licking her lip, working his tongue into her willing mouth.

Bellamy eased her back down onto the blanket, his mouth still on hers. Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him more hungrily as he maneuvered his knees in between her thighs, propping himself up on one elbow to keep from pressing his full weight onto her.

Their eyes locked as he pulled away from the kiss. Clarke withdrew her arms from his neck long enough to pull her sweater over her head and toss it to the side. With his free hand, he began unbuttoning her shirt slowly, offering a kiss on each new bare sliver of skin it revealed. She arched her back as a sigh escaped her lips, making him smile and he continued to travel downward, kissing her between the ribs, her navel, the edge of her waistband. He rose up and sat back on his heels, pulling his own jacket and shirt off, watching as Clarke shimmied out of her pants. Her breathing was quick, shallow. She motioned for him to come back to her but he shook his head.

“Just let me look at you, Princess,” he whispered. Clarke smiled, unclasped her bra and raised her arms over her head. Bellamy’s gaze roamed every inch of her body. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He reached down and touched her gently with three fingers, right at the hollow in her throat, then traced his hand around to her breast, his touch feather light, teasing. Clarke took his other hand in hers and brought his palm to her mouth, kissing it. His touch became more firm, more possessive as he ran his hand past her ribs, flattening it on her belly. The heel of his palm just touched her mound and he pressed down slightly, making her buck her hips up as she moaned.

His cock was uncomfortably hard inside his jeans as he unbuckled his belt and sat back long enough to take off his shoes and pull his jeans and boxers off. He quickly kneeled back between her thighs and lowered himself onto her, resting on his elbows and bringing his mouth to hers again. She could feel his cock, pressing against her entrance, but he waited. They both seemed to want this moment forever frozen in time.

She closed her eyes and put her hand on his chest so she could feel the rise and fall of every breath, the pulse of every heartbeat.

“I should stop,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t have a condom.”

Clarke pressed her lips to his ear. “Let’s just let Fate have its way with us this time.” She raised her hips and he pushed himself into her, both of them moaning in ecstasy.

When he was fully inside her he ran his hand underneath the small of her back, holding her tightly against him as he rocked his hips slowly forwards and back, edging her closer to orgasm with each move.

“Bellamy, I need you,” she cried.

“You have me,” he whispered. “You’ll always have me.” She was so close to coming, every move of her hips encouraging him to fuck her harder, and then suddenly he paused when he was halfway inside her. “Don’t stop!” she cried.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice shaky with desire.

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

He inched himself further inside her and stopped. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Bellamy. I’m yours! Please, please,” she was losing her mind, convinced she was going to fall to pieces without him inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for dear life as Bellamy leaned forward and thrust his hips hard, burying himself inside her. “I’m yours,” she repeated over and over, knowing she would never say any two words truer than these. She opened her eyes to the blue sky above her and wound both hands into his hair as her orgasm washed over her. A sob escaped her throat when the pleasure became more than she could bear and Bellamy gently slowed his pace, letting her relax into the warm euphoria.

He kissed her gently on the cheek. “My turn?” he whispered. She nodded. He pulled his cock nearly all the way out and then drove into her, making her arch her back and press her head hard against the ground. Clarke responded to every movement of his body as though it were her own. And as Bellamy came inside her, he was aware of only one thing. Clarke Griffin had become his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we prompted the 100 fics for BLM for a moodboard, we decided we really liked having a moodboard with the chapter. We loved the one they had done for us so much that I decided to play around a little and see if I could make one. The moodboard added to this chapter was the final stage of my first attempt. I think it turned out pretty well and hope you all enjoy it too. Kris


	13. But I Lost the Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate may be working with Clarke and Bellamy, but Abby Griffin still wants to see her daughter take a different path. Clarke and Bellamy spend their first Halloween together since the night they first met. And while Bellamy has always hated surprises, Clarke has one planned that may make him feel differently about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful moodboard with this chapter was a prize I won in a give-a-way sponsored by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold, here on AO3 and @the_river_held on twitter, for the 100 fic for BLM initiative. She then made a donation to BLM intiative.  
> Please check them out on Twitter at @t100fic_for_blm or The t100 Fic for BLM Initiative on Tumblr.  
> We are so pleased with this amazing moodboard and feel she really did an incredible job with it. We had her design it specifically for this chapter that grace_and_lucididy and I have been looking forward to posting.

**************************************************************************************************

Bellamy was laying on his back under the kitchen sink and heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he yelled, knowing it was Clarke. He heard the door open and close and stayed under the sink. “I’m nearly finished,” he said.

Clarke put the pizza she’d brought on the counter and walked over to stand near him. She looked down and watched his biceps flex as he wrestled with the wrench. Her eyes traveled down to the edge of his t-shirt, which was rising up and exposing the skin of his abdomen and the dark line of hair below his navel. She felt a pang of desire and sighed, kneeling down beside him and running her hand along the edge of his jeans. Bellamy let out a little sigh and she smiled, standing up to get a glass of water.

Since the day at the lake, they had rarely gone a day without falling into bed together. Bellamy’s sexual appetite was as insatiable as her own, and when she looked back down at him, she smiled as she noticed his erection. He was peering at her from under the sink and scooted out from under it.

“See something you like, Princess?” he asked, gesturing to his crotch.

She laughed. “I never knew plumbing was that exciting.”

He grinned up at her. “It’s not. Maybe it’s the smell of pizza.”

She nudged him gently with her foot. “Hey, careful! I’ll take my pizza and go eat it all by myself.”

Bellamy stood up and wiped his hands on a rag, leaning in to kiss her. “Please don’t do that, darlin’. I’m so hungry.” He kissed her again and pulled her tight to him. She smiled against his lips.

“We’re never going to get this house ready if we keep this up,” she laughed.

“You’re right,” he sighed. He grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved half of it in his mouth, gesturing to the fridge.

Clarke opened it and pulled out a beer, holding it up. He shook his head, still chewing. She pulled a sparkling water out and he nodded. She’d been happy to see that he was already drinking much less just in the past two weeks. She popped the can open and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “So you’re painting?” he gestured to her torn jeans and stained t-shirt.

“Yep, that’s why I’m here,” she got her own piece of pizza and sat down on a bar stool.

Bellamy had gotten to work on his house with renewed purpose, inspired in knowing that he and Clarke could possibly be moving in together as soon as he sold it. He’d repaired the front steps, planted shrubs in the front yard, and installed new blinds throughout the house. Only some painting and plumbing remained to be done. He found himself humming while he worked, no longer dwelling on the memories of his house and all that had happened there. He felt ready to let go of his past, his thoughts now were on his future with Clarke, and hopefully Andrew.

Clarke had also been busy prepping her condo, hiring a realtor to show the place while she was at work. And, best of all, in his opinion, she had been spending almost all her time at his house. She claimed it was so her house would stay pristine and ready to show. He teased her relentlessly about that because it was true that any room Clarke was in for more than five minutes would look like she had always lived there. Clothes, dishes, and toiletries strewn everywhere. He found, rather than irritate him, it made him happy to walk into a room and see evidence that she had been there.

They were chatting about the last showing Clarke had on her condo, how the realtor felt sure she would get an offer, when his cell phone rang. He glanced at it.

“The foster care agency,” he said. He tapped the screen. “Hello? Yes, this is he.” He nodded at something she said. “Yeah, that’s correct. I want to update my application.” A pause. “Marital status.”

He looked at Clarke and she smiled at him. He listened for another minute. “Am I engaged now?” he repeated the woman’s question, still looking at Clarke. She took his hand and nodded. He bit his lip and cocked his head, mouthing “are you sure?” to her. She nodded again and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, I’m engaged,” he said into the phone, trying to suppress a grin. He still had a tight hold on her hand. “Clarke Griffin. G-r-i-f-f-i-n. Yes, ma’am. Okay. I can do that. Thank you.” He hung up.

“So, what’s up?” Clarke asked. Once Bellamy had told her about his desire to foster Andrew, she had immediately suggested they re-apply as a couple. He had argued with her at first, insisting that she didn’t have to do that for him. She had argued with equal insistence that she wasn’t doing it for Bellamy only. She had also grown to love Andrew, and she knew how badly Bellamy wanted a family. There was no reason they shouldn’t do it, together. He had finally relented and re-applied.

“She said my chances just improved, and we’d be hearing something soon,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Clarke pulled him to her, parting her knees so he could stand close. “Believe it, Bellamy. We’re doing this.” He leaned in and kissed her.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he whispered.

“I do,” she said. “But don’t feel like you have to stop saying it.”

“I’ve got no intention of that,” he said. His hands started to roam up from her waist, one hand sneaked its way under her shirt and moved to her breast as he kissed her again.

“Do you want to get this painting finished or not,” she asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

“Fuck the painting,” he said, picking her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He started carrying her towards the bedroom.

“Your pizza will get cold,” she laughed. “I thought you were hungry.”

“I am hungry, Clarke. Very, very hungry,” he growled.

**********************************************************

Two days later, Bellamy was on a ladder, replacing a window screen. He heard a car pull into his driveway and turned to see Abby Griffin stepping out of her car. He frowned. He hadn’t known Abby even knew where he lived. Stepping down from the ladder he waved cautiously.

“Dr. Griffin,” he said. “Nice to see you.” He felt awkward, standing there in his ragged jeans and t-shirt. She was dressed in a pin-stripe skirt and heels and wore a tailored camel coat over it. “Sorry,” he said. “Clarke isn’t here.”

Abby pulled her sunglasses off and regarded him as though he were trespassing in his own yard.

“That’s fine, Bellamy. I’ve come to see you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said. There was a long pause. “Do you...want to come in?”

She gave him a curt nod and followed him up the steps, her eyes taking in the small house as she entered, making him even more uncomfortable.

“So this is where Clarke spends most of her time now?” she asked.

“Um, when she’s not at work, yes,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No. Thank you. This won’t take long,” she replied. “I just wondered if Clarke had talked to you about her opportunity on the east coast?” She stood with her arms folded across her chest. Bellamy stared at her as he attempted to find any resemblance to the woman he loved. Abby was all hard lines, dark eyes, and frowning lips. Clarke was soft edges, blue eyes, and a smile always playing at the edge of her mouth.

“She did...tell me about it,” he replied. “She said a recruiting agency contacted her, asked her to apply. She wasn’t that interested.”

“She applied,” Abby said. “And they offered her the position. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you that.”

“Well,” he stammered. “I haven’t talked to her today yet.” He could feel a growing sense of unease in his gut, and a powerful need to talk to Clarke. To figure out how much of what he was hearing was true. Suddenly, he wanted Abby to leave more than anything.

“Okay, thanks for telling me, I guess,” he said. “But I have a lot to do on the house so maybe...”

“You’re the reason she’ll say no,” Abby said flatly. “I thought you should know that, too. That Clarke may be passing up the most incredible opportunity she’ll ever have. For this...” she made a sweeping gesture around his living room.

“Dr. Griffin,” he began.

“Call me Abby,” she interrupted.

“Abby, I know this house isn’t much. Clarke and I are looking for a place together. A better place.”

Abby was already shaking her head. “You just don’t understand, do you? A better place isn’t what she needs, Bellamy. Clarke is a brilliant surgeon. She saved your leg when most wouldn’t have even tried. She needs to reach her full potential and she could do it in that position. And I know you want that for her too, don’t you?”

Bellamy took a deep breath and regarded Abby for a long minute. “What about what she wants, Abby? Have you ever asked Clarke what she wants? Because I have. And I think if that was what Clarke needed, she would have told me.” He was trying to temper the anger he was starting to feel towards Abby. That, combined with a growing insecurity that he may not actually know what Clarke wanted. Maybe she had been hiding that from him just to make him happy.

Abby shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t tell you everything. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You know, Abby, your dishonesty with Clarke prevented us from being together for eight years. Eight years of lost time. And yeah, Clarke didn’t tell me the truth for a few months, but her motivations were at least out of compassion. Yours were out of selfishness and your need to control her life.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Abby said, clearly incensed.

“I need to ask you to leave,” Bellamy said.

Abby turned abruptly and walked back to the door. She stopped and pulled a manila envelope from her bag. “I almost forgot, this is your copy of my report of your medical progress. I gave your commanding officer my assurance that you’re physically capable of active duty again. You should be given the green light to deploy soon.” She walked out onto the porch and turned to look at him. “If you love my daughter, see that you put her needs before your own.

“I will. Unlike you,” Bellamy said, closing the door behind her.

He sat down on the sofa and opened the file she had handed him. “God damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He got a text alert and looked at it. Clarke.

_Hey, babe. Do you want to have dinner at my place tonight?_

He stared at the phone for a couple of minutes.

_Hey, beautiful. I’m pretty beat actually. Mind if I just shower and go to bed here? And see you tomorrow?_

He hesitated before hitting send. Why was he avoiding her? Abby’s words were still buzzing in his head. Was she giving up a better future just for him? Why wouldn’t she have told him about the job offer? His thumb twitched on the phone and then he hit send. It was another minute before she responded.

_Sure. Everything okay?_

_Yeah, everything is fine. Just tired. I love you_

_I love you too._

******************************************************

Bellamy woke up and looked at his phone. 3:00 a.m. He sighed and laid back on the pillow, closing his eyes. Ten minutes later he took his phone again and tapped out a text.

_Are you awake?_

He waited, but only for a minute.

_I’m awake. You okay?_

He bit his lip and considered this. Finally, he tapped another text.

_Why didn’t you tell me about the job?_

Instead of a text, his phone rang.

“Bellamy, is this why you didn’t come over?” Clarke asked, her voice soft with sleep.

He sighed. “Your mom stopped by this afternoon.” He could hear Clarke cursing under her breath.

“What did she say?”

“A few things. That you were offered a job, that I would be ruining your life if I didn’t make you take it. Oh, and that she signed off for me to be put back on the active duty roster. I guess she’s hoping I get killed in the line of duty, which would solve all her problems.”

“Bellamy, listen to me. I literally just found out about the job offer. I was going to tell you about it at dinner tonight but you said you were too tired to come.”

“I thought you weren’t even going to apply, Clarke. We talked about it. You told me you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not. I’m still not. And technically I didn’t apply. I put in my resume and reference letters at a head hunting agency a couple of years ago. My mom got a request for a referral. I think she may have gone as far as to imply I was ready to accept an offer. I don’t know. And I don’t know what she told you, but you need to ignore it.”

“Her hatred of me is kind of hard to ignore,” he said quietly. “And she’s right.”  
  
“Right about what?”

“That you’re passing up an incredible opportunity. And it’s because of me. Clarke, we can move if you want to. I’ll be able to retire in four and half more years. I can relocate to a base on the East Coast. I can...” 

“Stop,” Clarke demanded. “Just stop. Please remember what’s she’s already done to keep us apart. Bellamy, we lost eight years together because of my mother. And I am not making the decision to turn down a job offer because it’s what I think you want. It’s because it’s what I want. And honestly, I’ve never been more certain of what I want in my life. Our home is here. Your only family is here. I love you, Bellamy Blake, and I don’t care what my mother tries to choose for me. I choose you. And I’ll choose you every time until the day I die.” 

Bellamy closed his eyes and stayed silent.  
“Are you there?” She asked.

“I’m here. I just...want to hear you breathe,” he smiled into the phone. “I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you, too.”

*******************************************************

Bellamy read Clarke’s text a second time. He’d agreed to go with her to the Halloween party at the pediatric wing, but he hadn’t agreed to put on a costume. He frowned at his phone.

“I thought she hated Halloween,” he muttered to the empty room. He was standing at his kitchen counter and glanced over at the open letter he’d received that day. His commanding officer letting him know he would be sending him to a three month military training exercise in Atlanta. He’d be leaving in just under three weeks. He and Clarke had known this might happen soon, but he wasn’t looking forward to telling her about it. She had an offer on her house and was gradually packing it up. His own house was officially on the market and they had just closed on a house that was close to where she worked. It seemed that life was finally sorting itself out for both of them and he tried not to see this assignment as too big an obstacle. It was better than active deployment, he told himself. At least the bullets fired during training wouldn’t kill him.

He was in the shower when Clarke let herself in with the key he’d given her. He walked into his room with a towel around his waist to find her sitting on his bed in a pale pink gown, layers of taffeta spread out around her. She smiled at him and gestured at her dress.

“What do you think?” she laughed. He grinned at her and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“I think I’m having déjà vu,” he said, putting his hands on the bed on either side of her hips and continuing to kiss her. “You’re beautiful.”

He stood up and dropped his towel and Clarke tried her best not to watch him as he walked to his dresser and pulled out boxers and a white t-shirt. “I thought you hated Halloween,” he said as he dressed. “And I don’t have a costume. I’m thinking just...a ghost? I’ve got a couple of old sheets I can cut up.”

She smiled and stood up, walked to his closet and sifted through his clothes. “My opinion on it may have changed. Besides, I do this for the kids every year.” She said as she pulled out his dress blues and held them up.

“I was thinking this would work,” she suggested.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “My dress blues? You know that’s not a costume, right?”

“I know,” she said. “But, the kids would love it. And so would I.” She smiled at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in them. And you know how I love a man in uniform.”

“I hope you only love one man in uniform,” Bellamy laughed. He took the uniform from her. “Your wish is my command, Princess. Give me a minute to dress.”

Clarke waited in the living room and when she heard Bellamy come down the hall she looked up and her mouth opened in surprise. She found him gorgeous in anything he wore. But, the sight of him in his crisp jacket with gold buttons and insignia and creased blue pants with gold striping down the sides made her heart stop. He’d combed his hair back but some of the curls were already starting to resist and fall more loosely around his face. He was holding his dress cap in one hand. She was still staring at him and he grinned. “Is this okay?”

She nodded, still not saying anything. He walked up to her and she noticed he was holding something behind his back with his other hand. When he held it out to her, she smiled.

“I thought this would complete your look,” he said softly, putting the rhinestone crown on her head. “If I remember correctly, I was supposed to give this back to you eight years ago.”

He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. “You look amazing. Like a fairy tale,” he said. “I imagined this moment so many times. What could have been.”

She shook her head and put her hand up to his. “Not what could have been, Bellamy. What is. We don’t have to imagine any more. Okay?”

He nodded.

“We should go,” Clarke said. “We don’t want to keep the kids waiting.”

They were at the hospital for about an hour, with Bellamy gamely posing for pictures with kids and helping Clarke hand out candy. He was patiently explaining his medals to a little girl and Clarke walked up and waited for him to finish.

“We should probably get going,” she said. “We have one more stop to make on the way home.”

Bellamy gave her a curious look and followed her out of the hospital.

“Where are we going?” he asked. “You didn’t mention another stop before.”

“It’s a surprise,” she said.

“Okay, I love surprises.”

“No you don’t,” she laughed.

“I know,” he replied. “Just promise me it’s a good one.”

She looked over at him and gave him a small smile. “I hope you’ll think so.”

He was looking out the window as Clarke drove, thinking how nice it was to not have any idea where he was going, but only that he was with the woman he loved and it was a beautiful fall day. When she turned right on the outskirts of town he turned to her and gave her a funny look.

“Where are you taking me?” He suspected he knew already.

“I thought we’d go out to the lake for a little while,” she said casually.

“Like this?” he asked, gesturing to his uniform.

“Yeah, we can just take a little walk, get a couple of nice pictures of ourselves. Why not? It’s a beautiful day.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Sure. Did you bring a blanket? Because last time we were here we...”

“I remember, Bellamy. No blanket this time.”  
She looked over at him and he stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout, which made her laugh.

She pulled up to the dock and they got out of the car and stood hand in hand by the water’s edge.

“This is one of my favorite places now,” she said. “When you told me about it eight years ago, I always imagined it in my head. And it’s even better than that.”

He nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. They stood for another minute before Clarke stepped toward the gravel road and motioned for him to follow her. “Let’s take a walk.”

“In those shoes?” he asked, pointing to her heels.

“I’ll manage,” she said. They started to walk and within a minute Bellamy stopped and cocked his head.

“Do you hear that?” he asked. “It sounds like someone playing guitar.”

“Hmmm,” Clarke said. “I do. Let’s go see.” They kept walking and he stopped again.

“Clarke,” he paused. “They’re playing the bridal march.” He lowered his voice. “Someone’s getting married. We should turn and go the other way.” He took her hand and began to turn back down the path.

Clarke tugged on his hand. “Bellamy, we’re going the right way. Trust me.” She pulled him back and held his hand as they continued down the path toward the edge of the water.

As they passed through the last stand of trees, Bellamy looked up and saw a small group of people standing near an arch made of boughs and vines. As they got closer he recognized Miller and Dr. Jackson, Murphy and Emori, Raven, Harper, Octavia, Lincoln, Nyx, and Apollo, and a large man that looked familiar to him but his mind was racing and he couldn’t place him. Monty was seated near the altar playing guitar. He looked up, grinned, and kept playing. Bellamy turned to Clarke.

“I...I don’t understand what’s happening,” he faltered.

Clarke squeezed his hand. “Will you marry me?”

He opened his mouth and no sound came out. Clarke’s eyes widened as Bellamy dropped to one knee and brought her hand to his lips. He shut his eyes and froze this moment in his memory.

“Is that a yes?” he heard Murphy call out. The small group laughed and Bellamy smiled against Clarke’s hand. He stood up. “That’s a yes,” he said.

Miller positioned himself under the alter and Clarke and Bellamy stood in front of him. He began to speak but all Bellamy could focus on was Clarke, his beautiful princess, standing in front of him, her blue eyes never shifting their gaze away from his. He watched her lips as she spoke the words “I do,” and as she slipped a wedding band on his ring finger, he suddenly panicked.

“I don’t have ring,” he whispered to her urgently. “Clarke...” he felt a small tug on his jacket and looked down to see Nyx standing there. She held her tiny fist up to him and opened it.

“It’s for your princess,” she said loudly. The group laughed again. Bellamy smiled at her and took the ring she was holding out of her hand. He recognized it instantly as his mothers. He turned his head to Octavia, who smiled and nodded at him, gesturing for him to continue. Miller cleared his throat and brought Bellamy’s attention back to him. “Do you take Clarke Griffin to be your wife?”

“I do,” he said. He put the ring on her finger and leaned in to kiss her, not sure if Miller had pronounced them husband and wife yet, and not caring. He heard his friends applaud, he felt hands patting him on the back, but he was still in a daze. If it weren’t for Clarke holding his hand, he would feel completely detached from everything around him.

“This isn’t a dream?” he said quietly.

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “This is us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would personally like to thank grace_and_lucidity for all of the amazing work she's doing writing this fic, that I love and adore so much. I've had pieces of this floating around in my head for well over a year. Grace had messaged me on twitter after a comment I left on one of her fics, we quickly became friends and I told her about this. She encouraged me to write it, but I CANNOT write. She discovered that when she received several emails of my jumbled up thoughts. She has quite impressively turned them into what you are now reading. I can honestly tell you that I have been in tears reading some of the chapters when she sends them to me for editing and input. She has far exceeded what was in my head and I am so grateful to her for her patience, tenacity and insight. You are a beautiful soul J. and I love you to pieces.  
> Also, we love kudos and comments, so please feel free to make our day. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as we did! 💜


	14. To Know and Feel Too Much Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke enjoy a short honeymoon. This chapter is entirely fluff. You're welcome!

***********************************************************************************************************************

Clarke and Bellamy pulled up the restaurant. He smiled. “This is where I took Octavia for dinner when she graduated,” he said.

She smiled. “Octavia insisted on making the dinner reservations. That must be why she picked this place.” She took his hand. “You ready to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he said.

“You’re always starving,” she laughed.

They walked in and the host directed them to a back room reserved for special events. As they came through the doors, the wedding guests all applauded and raised a glass of champagne. Clarke looked over at Bellamy who was grinning widely.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you all for coming today. I...I didn’t actually know when I got up this morning that I’d be getting married today.” There was laughter at that. “But one thing I did know, the thing I’ve known every morning for nine years,” he squeezed Clarke’s hand, “is that I love Clarke Griffin. I may not have known her name for eight of those years, but she was in my heart, always.” He leaned over and kissed Clarke on the cheek. “And she will be for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Murphy called out.

“You’ll drink to anything,” Miller said. The guests all laughed.

Bellamy came up and shook hands with Roan, who gave him a hearty pat on the back.

“Bellamy Blake, we finally meet. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Roan said.

“Clarke and I went to med school together.”

“You look familiar,” Bellamy said. “Are you a surgeon at the hospital?”

“I’m an ob/gyn now.”

Bellamy started to nod. “Yeah, okay. I didn’t recognize you at first,” he said. “You delivered my niece.”

Roan grinned. “I sure did! Maybe I’ll deliver one of your kids sometime soon, huh? If I’m in town.”

Bellamy ducked his head and smiled. “You don’t have a practice here?”

“No, I started working with Doctors Without Borders a couple of years ago. I was lucky I was home for this in fact. I’m leaving for the Philippines in a couple of weeks.”

“You like working overseas?”

“I do. It gets lonely. Well, you know all about that, right?”

Bellamy nodded. “Yes I do.”

Roan smiled and then grew more serious. “You know, Bellamy, Clarke carried a torch for you for years. I’m glad you two were able to find each other.”

They both looked over as Clarke approached and Bellamy felt a tug in his heart. “Me too.” He reached out his hand to her and she kissed him on the cheek, then turned to Roan and gave him a big hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, standing on tiptoe.

“Me too, Shorty,” he said. He looked over at Bellamy. “You won the lottery with this one.”

Bellamy smiled. “I won’t argue with that.”

Roan’s eyes travelled to the other end of the table where Raven was sitting. “Anyone going to introduce me to that gorgeous woman?” he asked.

“That’s my friend, Raven Reyes,” Bellamy laughed. “I’ll introduce you, but just a word of caution. She’s a handful.”

Roan raised his eyebrows. “Challenge accepted. Lead the way.”

Clarke smiled and watched Bellamy lead Roan over and introduce him to Raven. The spark between the two of them was apparent to her even from across the room.

After introducing Roan to Raven, Bellamy sat down next to Octavia and took her hand. “Thanks for this, O,” he said. He gestured to the large room she had reserved for the wedding party dinner.

Octavia smiled at him. “Anything for you, big brother. Another milestone today. Bellamy Blake is married. Hearts are breaking all across town.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “C’mon, sis.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand, then turned it over to touch the ring on his finger. “Clarke picked this out?”

“Yeah,” he held his hand up to look at it. A simple gold band, wide to suit his large fingers. On the inside, she had inscribed _Bellamy, you really are a prince._ He was still in shock that he was sitting here, a married man, with the love of his life across the room, looking radiant, laughing and drinking champagne. He was still smiling at her when Octavia cleared her throat softly. “Sorry,” he laughed, turning back to her.

“You saved my ass today,” he said. “How did you have mom’s ring?”

Octavia ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass and studied it for a minute.

“Do you remember that time I brought a friend home from school with me? It was one of the only times I ever did. And Mom was...”

“...hitting me with a belt. Yeah, I remember.” Bellamy said curtly, taking a sip of his champagne.

Octavia nodded. “As soon as we walked in, I could hear the two of you upstairs. She was screaming at you and I could hear her hitting you and you screaming back at her. I froze in the doorway with this girl. She gave me a funny look and I just made up some excuse about forgetting a book at school and so we left really quick.”

Bellamy nodded. “I remember looking out the window and seeing the two of you walking back down the sidewalk.” He laughed. “I don’t even remember what Mom was hitting me for, but I remember that. You looked back up at the window. I didn’t know if you saw me or not.”

“I did,” Octavia said. “And I wanted to go back, to make her stop. But I didn’t want this other girl to come in and see what was happening. I was too embarrassed. So I just...I just left you there.” She put her hand on top of her brother’s. “I have so much to apologize to you for, Bellamy.”

“Octavia, stop. We lived with an abusive addict. We survived. I don’t need an apology for anything. Not from you anyway.”

“Well, when I got home later, you didn’t want to talk to me,” Octavia continued. “And I was so pissed at Mom. I could have killed her. I wanted to hurt her for what she did to you, what she was always doing to you. So I snuck into her room when she was passed out on the couch. And I took her ring. I’ve had it ever since.”

Bellamy shook his head. “Wow. I remember Mom losing her shit when she was trying to find that ring. Wanted to pawn it, I guess. She accused me of taking it.” He looked at Octavia. “Thank you. For keeping the ring all these years, and for letting me have it for Clarke. It means a lot to me. And Octavia?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you. You know that, right?”

Octavia swiped at her eyes with a napkin. “Well, that goes both ways, big brother. Now let’s focus on something happy. Like the fact that you are finally with the love of your life.”

He looked back over at Clarke and smiled. “Yep. Let’s focus on that.”

He got up from the table and walked over to where Clarke was standing and put his hands on her waist. He began swaying back and forth and she put her hands up on his chest and laughed.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing with my wife, he said quietly.

“There’s no music, Bellamy.”

“Mmmmm. You’re wrong, love. There is.” She put her cheek to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She listened to his heartbeat and swayed with him, marveling at the feeling of being grounded and weightless at the same time.

*******************************************************

Three hours later, the guests had finally all gone and they made their way out of the restaurant. Clarke had drunk several glasses of wine and Bellamy had stopped at one glass of champagne so he plucked the car keys out of her hand when she pulled them from her purse and put them in his pocket. He looked down and noticed she was holding her shoes in her hand as they stepped out on the sidewalk so he scooped her up in his arms. “What are you doing?” she laughed.

“You could step on something sharp,” he said, carrying her towards the car.

“Are you always going to be this protective of me?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Mmmm hmmmm,” he said. “Count on it.”

When they got to the car, he realized he couldn’t reach the keys in his pocket. “Hey, babe. Can you get the keys for me?”

Clarke giggled and reached her hand down into his pocket. “I love getting in your pants,” she whispered into his ear. He grinned at her.

“Alright, well the sooner we get home, the sooner you can do that,” he said. She clicked the car lock and he gently set her down on the ground, opening the door and helping her stuff all her taffeta layers into the seat with her.

He began driving home and Clarke started gesturing her arm in the other direction. “No, no. Go left here.”

“What? Why? Aren’t we going to my house.”

“Nope,” Clarke said, smiling at him. She pulled a set of house keys out of her bag. “We’re going to our new home.”

“You got the keys today?” he asked in surprise.

“I did,” she said. “I want us to spend our first night as a married couple in our house.”

He laughed. “Well, I think a bed might be nice to have on our first night as a married couple.”

“Just drive,” Clarke said.

“Okay,” he sighed. “You’re the boss.”

They pulled into the driveway and both of them just sat and stared at the outside of the house. It was larger than Bellamy’s, with a big porch and a swing, a stone chimney, a fenced in back yard.

“You can rock our baby to sleep on that swing,” he whispered.

“And you can dress up like Santa and pretend to come down that chimney,” she laughed.

She looked over at Bellamy and saw he was teary eyed. “Hey, are you going to carry me over the threshold?” she asked.

He got out and opened her door for her, lifted her in his arms and carried up the porch steps to the front door. It was dark and Clarke fumbled with the key for a minute before the door finally opened. He stepped inside and she put her hands over his eyes. “Put me down and keep your eyes closed,” she said.

Bellamy did as she instructed, listening as Clarke walked down the hallway. She was gone for several minutes and he was about to open his eyes when she finally came back and took his hand. “Okay, come with me,” she said.

He followed her down the hallway and stopped in the doorway to their bedroom. “Now you can open your eyes,” she said. Bellamy opened his eyes and gazed around the room. Clarke had set up candles around the perimeter of the bedroom that glowed softly, illuminated the sparse room that had nothing but an air mattress in the middle of the floor. There was a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting next to it.

He laughed. “You are something else, Clarke Griffin.”

“It’s Clarke Griffin-Blake now,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, mulling that over.

“I brought you an overnight bag, too,” she said, gesturing to the master bath. “A change of clothes, toothbrush,” she was interrupted by his lips on hers.

He turned her slowly around and began unzipping her dress. “I think it’s time to get out of this,” he said in a low voice. He kissed her shoulder and ran his hands down her back, nudging the fabric aside. She trembled as his warm hands reached her waist. The dress fell from her hips and she stepped daintily out of the pile of pink fabric. Bellamy eyes were dark with lust as he took her in, dressed in only a strapless pink pushup bra and lace panties.

“Clarke,” his voice was hoarse. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She reached out and began unbuttoning his jacket.

“I think you could use some help with that,” she said, pushing the jacket off his shoulders and then helping him with his dress shirt and finally pulling his t-shirt over his head. When she reached down to begin unbuckling his belt he moaned softly, his cock was already rock hard.

“Mmm, is this for me?” she whispered, stroking him through his pants. He inhaled sharply and nodded. Clarke knelt down and unlaced his shoes so he could step out of them and then stood back up, continued to unzip his pants and pulled them down to the floor. He stepped out of them and took her hand, leading her to the mattress. He sat down and put his hands on her thighs, running his thumbs up underneath the edge of her panties.

“Come closer,” he whispered. She stepped closer to him and he kissed her just below her navel, his warm breath making her shudder with desire. His touch was so light, his fingers dancing along her skin, each movement sending a tiny electric current from the point of contact to her core. He continued to kiss her, his lips whispering along her abdomen as he pulled her panties down and let her step out of them. Clarke eased herself down as he scooted back and pulled his boxers off. They laughed as the air mattress squeaked and shifted under their weight.

Bellamy was still sitting up as Clarke lowered herself onto his lap and wrapped her legs around him. He moaned softly as she pressed herself against his cock. “God, you feel so good,” he whispered. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the side as he brought his mouth to her breast. Clarke sighed and let her head fall back, Bellamy’s strong hands supporting her shoulders as he continued to kiss her breast and close his mouth over her nipple. She arched her back and brought her hand up to his hair, holding him tight to her breast as she ground her hips against his. Bellamy lowered one hand to the small of her back and pulled her even tighter to him, working his tongue in small circles before biting her nipple gently and smiling when she gasped. He leaned back and flipped her over so he was on top of her and she kept her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

Bellamy adjusted his hips so his cock was lined up with her entrance and brought his hand to her face, stroking her cheek gently as he pushed himself slowly into her. His eyes never left her face as he continued to fill her up with his cock, his thrusting slow but insistent, not stopping until they were fully joined. Clarke pulled him as tightly to her with her legs as she could, crying out when he pulled his hips back so he could thrust himself hard back into her.

She raised her arms over her head and Bellamy laced his fingers into hers, pinning her down as he began to fuck her harder. Clarke finally unwrapped her legs and planted her feet so she could thrust her hips upwards to match Bellamy’s own movements, encouraging him to use her the way she wanted him to, the way she knew he wanted. Bellamy claimed more of Clarke’s body, more of her soul, with each move he made. And when her orgasm washed over her, he slowed so he could watch her face and kiss the tears that were running down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Clarke,” he whispered. “For loving me.”

He released her hands and she wrapped her arms around him as he thrust into her one more time, his whole body shuddering as he came inside her. He relaxed onto her, sheltering her from most of his weight by propping himself up on his elbows.

“I guess we’ve officially consummated the marriage,” she laughed. He was still panting as he rolled over to lay down next to her. He threw his arm over his head and laughed.

“Yeah, you’re my wife now,” he said. “Too late to change your mind.”

She reached up and stroked his face. “I’ll never change my mind.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “We’re going to be happy here,” he said. “I can feel it.”  
  
“Mmmm. Me too,” she said. She rolled over onto her side and nestled into him.

“Clarke, I...got a letter today,” he said. It seemed like days ago now, when he’d been reading that letter. “I’m getting sent to Atlanta in three weeks, for a military training exercise.”

He felt Clarke stiffen slightly and sigh. “Okay, well we knew that was going to happen, right?” she said. “How long will you be gone?”

He bit his lip. “Three months.” He felt her nod against his chest.

She was quiet for a long time and he thought she might have fallen asleep.

“I’ll have the house set up by the time you get back. And hopefully Andrew will be here, too. And we can Skype every day. And I’ll be busy with work,” she was starting to talk more quickly and he felt a tear against his chest. He hugged her close.

“I’m coming home, Clarke. It’s just active duty, not combat deployment. Three months isn’t that long, right?”

“You’re right, I know,” she said softly. “But we waited so long to be together, I don’t want to miss another day with you.”

Bellamy kissed the top of her head. “We have the rest of our lives now.”

They lay in silence for a minute, and Bellamy took her hand and ran his thumb over her ring finger, as though he still needed to confirm that he did, in fact, have a wife. She looked over at him and he smiled.

“You know, there’s someone I would have expected to see at our wedding that wasn’t there.”

Clarke turned back to look at the ceiling. “You mean my mother?”

He nodded. “Did you tell her not to come or did she refuse to come?”

Clarke sighed. “I didn’t tell her we were getting married at all.”

Bellamy rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, frowning at her. “Clarke, do you think that was a good idea?”

“Why would I tell her, Bellamy? So she can list all the reasons I shouldn’t? So she can tell me all of her opinions about the mistakes she thinks I’m always making with regards to my own life?”

Bellamy blew out a sigh. “I was thinking more about so she wouldn’t continue to hate me. She’s going to think it was my idea not to invite her.”

“Well, I’ll be sure and clarify that with her when I do tell her about it,” Clarke said. “Trust me, Bellamy. I know how to handle my mother.”

He settled back onto his pillow. “Are you always going to be this protective of me?” he chuckled.

“Count on it,” she answered, giving him a kiss on the cheek and settling in against his chest.

They fell asleep to the dimming candlelight, wrapped in each other’s arms, the only sound in the empty house was the light rain that had started to fall.

********************************************************

**Two and a half weeks later**

Clarke gazed around the lobby of the Plaza Hotel. The last and only other time she had been to New York City had been her conference and she had not had any time to explore. In fact, she hadn’t even made it out of Midtown. She felt giddy with anticipation. The lobby itself was spectacular, and in her wildest dreams she would not have imagined staying in such a nice hotel. Bellamy walked up and handed her one of the key cards. “When I said it was our honeymoon, they gave us an upgrade,” he smiled.

“Bellamy, how much did this place cost?” Clarke breathed excitedly. “I mean...”

“This is our honeymoon, Clarke. Let me do this and you stop worrying about the cost. Sound good? We’re close to everything we’re going to do here. Our room has a view of Central Park. And you only live once.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Now let’s unpack. I’ve got plans.”

They walked into the room and Clarke let out a little cry of delight. She threw her bag on the bed and ran to the window, opening the blinds and then looking back at Bellamy and grinning from ear to ear. He laughed out loud.

“You look like a kid on Christmas morning,” he said, placing his own bag carefully on the luggage rack before coming over to hug her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her so they could both look out the window.

“We also have a sunken tub,” he whispered in her ear. “When we get back tonight, I say we put that to use.”

She leaned her head back against his chest. “Bellamy, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now put that fancy dress on. We’re going out.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking out of the lobby. Clarke had pulled on her long coat and a knit hat and gloves, but she still shuddered a little as the cold wind hit her when they stepped out on the sidewalk. She laced her arm through Bellamy’s and they headed toward the park. Clarke wanted to take in every sight she could, so she was grateful that Bellamy seemed to know where he was going and was happy to just be led in the direction he wanted to go.

“How do you know your way around here?” she laughed. “You’ve never been here before.”

“I’m a solider, Clarke. I know how to read a map,” he responded. “I also know how to execute a plan. I call this one Operation Happy Wife.”

“Okay,” she giggled. “It’s already successful.”

They stopped at a row of horse-drawn carriages and her eyes lit up when she looked at Bellamy. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, taking her hand and helping her step up into the carriage. The sun was setting and the November air was biting, but the carriage was equipped with a heavy fleece that they pulled over themselves before the driver clicked his horse into motion. Bellamy pulled a small brandy flask from his coat pocket and handed it to Clarke. She took a long sip and handed it back to him.

“This is like a fairy tale,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder and gazing up at the tall buildings to her right. Christmas lights were everywhere, and the driver paused as a group of carolers stood on the sidewalk and sang. She felt Bellamy reach for her hand under the blanket and she took it, knowing she had never felt this happy in her life. The carriage continued forward, through the park and as they passed into a darker area, Bellamy pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. She felt light headed, partially from the brandy, and partially from the realization that she had everything in her life she had ever wanted. He brought his hand up to the front of her coat, working one of the buttons free and running his hand inside to her breast. She sighed as he caressed her breast, still kissing her. He moved his lips from hers to close gently on her earlobe and then worked his way down along her neck. She leaned her head over slightly, giving him better access and put her own hand over his, pressing it more tightly to her breast. She felt him smile against her neck.

The driver cleared his throat comically. “Sir? Would you like me to take another lap around the park?”

Bellamy pulled away from Clarke’s neck long enough to answer. “Wherever my wife wants to go,” he said.

Clarke laughed. “Yes, another lap would be perfect,” she said, suppressing a gasp when she felt Bellamy’s hand move between her legs.

By the time the driver had pulled the horse to a halt, Clarke was ready to fuck Bellamy in the carriage if she had to. He had worked her into a frenzy, while casually commenting on the sights around them as though he wasn’t making her writhe in pleasure under the blanket.

She hurriedly pulled herself together before they emerged from the carriage. Bellamy stepped out first and took her hand. Clarke was weak in the knees with desire and felt wobbly when she stepped onto the side walk.

“Are we going back to the hotel?” she asked hopefully as Bellamy tipped the driver.

“Uhhh, no,” he said. “We’re having dinner. Italian.” He hailed a cab and within minutes they were driving down Lexington Avenue. “I’m starving. How about you?”

Clarke pouted at him. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Feeding you? Of course I am,” he grinned. “You look hungry.”

She shook her head. “Just wait until I get you alone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Bellamy had made a reservation at the Lex, a local restaurant that specialized in homemade pasta and seafood dishes. The host took them to a quiet booth near the back of the restaurant and Clarke smiled at the bottle of chilled white wine already on the table.

“You thought of everything,” she said.

“Probably,” he replied. “Let me know if I miss anything.”

The waiter poured the wine and took their order, returning quickly with an appetizer. Bellamy wasted no time, clearing the small plate in minutes. He looked at Clarke apologetically. “I wasn’t joking. I really am starving.”

By the time they had finished their meal and dessert, even Bellamy was able to say he was satisfied. They stepped out once again into the cold wind to hail a cab, which had them back to the hotel as Clarke was beginning to feel drowsy from the flight, the brandy, and the meal.

“I’m going to run us a bath,” Bellamy said, kissing her on the side of the head and disappearing into the bathroom. When he came back out, Clarke was standing near the bed in a black negligee. Bellamy stopped in his tracks and a small ‘oh’ escaped his throat. Clarke laughed and walked up to him seductively. He put his hand out to touch her, but she moved to the side and kept walking to the bathroom. “Nope, you drove me crazy all night. It’s my turn. Now come help me with my bath, husband.”

He hung his head in mock disappointment and followed her into the bathroom. “Yes, ma’am.”

The next morning, he was kissing her awake as the sun was coming up. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered. “If you wake up now, I can make love to you before breakfast.”

“Bellamy,” she groaned. “It’s so early.”  
“I know,” he said, already easing himself onto her and nudging her legs apart with his knee. Clarke adjusted her head on the pillow and brought her arms around behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“I’ll be gone for three months, honey. I need to fuck you as much as possible before then,” he said, pushing his cock into her as she opened her legs wider.

“Mmmmm,” she agreed. “I say we stay in this room all day and just do this,” she wrapped her legs around him and encouraged him to roll onto his back so she could straddle him.

“I have more plans for...ahhhh,” he moaned as Clarke began riding him.

“Plans can wait,” she said.

They were still entwined, sweating and panting when there was knock on the door. “Room service!” a curt voice called from the other side of the door. Bellamy wrapped the sheet around his waist and went to the door, conversing quietly with the waiter before shutting the door and bringing a big tray into the room and setting it at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s eat,” he said. Clarke laughed.

“Do you think about more than food and sex?” she laughed.

He shrugged. “I have simple needs,” he said around a big bite of an English muffin. “But yes. I do think about more. And that’s why we’re going to the Met today. I have tickets to the Roman art exhibition.”

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “You think of everything.”

**********************************************************

She had to pinch herself as she stood in the Grand Hall of the Met. The echo of the crowds, the high pitched laughter of the school children being corralled by their teachers, the voices of docents struggling to be heard by their tour group as they moved into the surrounding galleries. Clarke checked their coats in as Bellamy pulled two tickets from his pocket and began looking around at the various signs for which direction their exhibition was.

“Here,” he said, gesturing towards the grand staircase directly in front of them. He took her hand and they walked upstairs into a quieter space. The voices of the crowds faded behind them and Clarke was transported into something she had really only dreamed of ever seeing. The vast hallway was filled with larger than life size marble sculptures. The sky lights cast soft golden light across the forms. She was enthralled. Bellamy followed her to a reclining male figure.

“Resting Warrior,” she read off the label. Her eyes traveled over the man’s perfectly sculpted torso, his limbs outstretched in a tranquil pose, his head leaning down toward his chest, and a mop of thick, curly hair that the sculptor had lovingly carved in detail. She turned towards Bellamy.

“It reminds me of you,” she said. He dipped his head.

“I’m never that relaxed,” he joked. But she could she he was flattered by the comment.

They moved through the exhibition slowly. Clarke wanted to gaze at each work and consider the hand of the artist, moving over the stone surface and bringing it to life. Bellamy wanted to carefully read every label, sharing tidbits of Roman history with her.

Two hours later, they emerged from the exhibition and paused long enough for a hot cup of tea in the museum’s café, a huge open courtyard where Clarke could people watch and sip her tea while Bellamy sat, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking over the information brochure.

“Let’s see the Egyptian gallery next,” he suggested. “Unless there’s something else you want to see.”

“Everything. All of it,” she laughed. He eyed her over the top of the brochure.

“According to this, The Met is around 2 million square feet. I don’t think we’re going to get see it all today.”

They settled on the Egyptian, East Asian, and 20th century galleries. When they were finally willing to admit to their exhaustion, Clarke glanced over to the gift shop. She gave Bellamy a hopeful look and he laughed, gesturing to the entrance. “Let’s go look,” he said.

She ended up buying some drawing pencils and a sketchpad, her fingers dancing over each pencil and lifting it, turning it, before deciding. Bellamy bought two books so he would have something to read on the flight to Atlanta.

As tired as they were, when they emerged from the museum, it was such a bright, crisp day they decided to walk back to their hotel, stopping for dinner in a Chinese restaurant along the way.

As soon as they were in the room, Clarke stepped out of her shoes and threw herself across the bed.

“God, what a day,” she sighed happily. Bellamy flopped down next to her.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said. “I wish we had more time.”

Clarke smiled. “We have our whole lives, Bellamy. Hey, why don’t I run you a bath this time?” She could tell his leg had started to bother him near the end of the day. He was uncomplaining, but she had noticed him wince a few times and try to hide a very slight limp.

He nodded. “I won’t say no to that.”

Clarke ran an extra hot bath and smiled as Bellamy sighed in pleasure as he stepped into it. Afterwards, she treated him to a massage of both legs as he lay on his back, his arm thrown over his head.

“Hey,” she said. “I have an idea.”  
“Hmmm?” he murmured. “Does it involve me getting up? I don’t think I can move.”

She laughed. “No, silly. I want to draw you. Something to help me remember you while you’re gone.”

He gave her a slow smile. “You can just take a picture, you know.”

She shook her head. “It’s not the same. I want to really look at you.”

He chuckled and propped himself up, his towel still wrapped around his waist. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“Well,” she smiled. “The first thing you have to do is lose the towel.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and pulled his towel off. “And then?”

Clarke stood up and studied him for a minute, determining the pose she wanted. “Resting warrior,” she pronounced when she was done positioning him.

She retrieved her new pencils and sketchbook and sat down on the bed near him, letting her eyes travel over his body. She reached out and traced her hand along his chest and leaned over to kiss one of the scars there. When she began to touch the scars on his leg, she felt his hand cover hers. She knew he was sensitive about all of the scars there.

“Bellamy, we all have scars,” she said quietly. “Yours are beautiful to me. They remind me of how big your heart is. How much you were willing to give to save me.”

He closed his eyes and took his hand away, allowing her to continue to trace her finger along the side of his leg.

She began to draw him, then. Tentative strokes of the pencil at first, shaking her head in frustration. Bellamy was patient, staying still and occasionally sticking his tongue out at her when they made eye contact, which made her laugh. She was finally satisfied with her drawing and lay back next to him, letting him see it.

He looked at it for a long time without saying anything. She was beginning to think he didn’t like it when he finally said, “I never saw myself like that before.”

“Like what?”

He thought for another minute. “Cherished.”

She smiled. “Then I got it right.” She put the sketchbook on the nightstand. “Now let me show you how cherished you are.”

*******************************************************

The next morning, Bellamy had to catch his flight to Atlanta. Clarke would be flying back to California. Their cab ride was quiet and somber, they held hands all the way there, not wanting to accept the fact that they would be separated for three months.

They were sitting together in the main entrance, waiting for Bellamy’s flight to be called, when his cell phone buzzed.

“It’s the foster care agent,” he said. He answered quickly. “Hello? Yes, this is he. Sorry, I can’t hear you very well. I’m in an airport.” Clarke watched Bellamy’s face go from an expression of expectation to one of sadness. She frowned and waited.

“Okay, yeah. No I understand. It’s great news. Really. I’m happy to hear it.”

He hung up and put his phone away.

“Bellamy? What is it?” Clarke asked.

“Andrew,” Bellamy said. “He’s found an adoptive family. A distant relative contacted them. They fast tracked the application.” He hung his head. “I lost him.”

Clarke put her arm around him and pulled him to her. “Hey, look at me,” she said. He turned, his face contorted with pain. “We’re going to have other chances, Bellamy.”

He took a deep breath. “I know. And if Andrew found his family, that’s a good thing.”

“It is. But I know it hurts.”

“I just...I really want a family, Clarke.”

“We’re going to have family. I promise.” Clarke said. The loudspeaker announced his flight and he stood, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” he said.

She hugged him close. “Three months. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” he said.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He wiped a tear off her cheek. “Mrs. Blake.”

She watched him walk towards the terminal and picked up her own bag to walk in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so inspired by the moodboards that we had done, for the 100 fic for BLM prompt and the moodboard I won, that I decided I wanted to try hand at making one myself, which we posted to chapter 12. I discovered that I enjoyed it so much that I just kept making them and now we have one for each chapter. We think they turned out pretty good and I'm proud of them. So, if you have the time, please take a look at the moodboards that have been added to each chapter. I hope you enjoy them as much as we do! And we hope you enjoyed Bellamy and Clarke's honeymoon. They really deserved to have some fun and relaxation!  
> We love to hear your comments, so please let us know how you felt about this chapter and I'd love to hear your opinions on the moodboards.  
> Thank you for reading. We know that are a lot of options out there and are happy you've decided to come along on this ride with us! 😘  
> Kris


	15. As the Light Bust Through a Beat-Up Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke start settling into their lives after he returns home. But fate discloses a startling revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Anxiety attack in this chapter.

***************************************************************************************

Clarke knocked timidly on Octavia’s door. They hadn’t really spoken a lot since the wedding, and even though Octavia had been cordial and friendly to her then, Clarke felt there was still some lingering mistrust. She shifted the plate of homemade Christmas cookies to her other hand and rang the bell. She could hear feet running down the stairs and a small child’s voice calling out. The door flung open and Clarke looked down to see Nyx standing there.

“Hi, Aunt Clarke,” she said. “Mom told me to let you in. She’s still getting dressed.”

The little girl was the spitting image of her mother and seemed just as feisty and self-assured. She was wearing a red velvet dress and her dark hair was up in a matching bow.

“Well, thank you Nyx,” Clarke said, stepping in. She smiled at the little girl, who was clearly curious what Clarke had in her hands. “Oh! I brought some cookies. Do you want to take them for me?” Nyx’s eyes lit up at the platter of cookies. She took them gingerly from Clarke’s hands as Octavia called from upstairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Clarke. Make yourself at home! Wine and appetizers on the counter!”

Clarke took off her coat and hung it in the foyer closet. She was grateful to Octavia for inviting her over for their Christmas Eve dinner. When she had realized she and Bellamy would be apart on their first Christmas, she had at first been sad, then accepting that this was the life of a military wife. She remembered more than one special occasion where she and her mom had put their ears to the phone together so they could hear her dad’s voice, fading in and out on the other end of the line, wishing them a Merry Christmas, or Happy Birthday, or Happy Anniversary. Determined not to be resentful like Abby, she had already planned to stay in their new home, alone, and listen to Christmas songs and drink wine. Bellamy would have 30 minutes to Skype with her in the evening. And that would be enough. But when Octavia had called, Clarke decided for Christmas Eve, it would be nice to spend time with Bellamy’s family and she appreciated that Octavia was making an effort to include her. She didn’t know if Bellamy had asked his sister to do this as a favor to him or not, but she wanted desperately to stay on Octavia’s good side and build their relationship.

Octavia came downstairs with Apollo in her arms. He was wearing a little red Santa onesie. Clarke’s heart jumped a little when she saw him, his soft little dark curls and rosy cheeks.

Octavia smiled at Clarke’s expression.

“Do you want to hold him while I pour us some wine?” she asked. Clarke nodded, realizing how much her arms ached to hold a baby. She took him from Octavia and rested him against her chest, breathing in his clean, warm baby scent. 

“Wow, if they could bottle this and sell it,” she sighed.

Octavia gave a snort. “Yeah, well that’s the best a baby can smell. Stick around. It isn’t always that great.” They laughed and she handed Clarke a glass of wine.

“Lincoln is coming home soon. He stopped to pick up a few things on the way home.” Octavia checked her watch just as the doorbell rang.

“Do you mind getting that while I check the oven?”

“Oh, no not at all.”  
“You can put Apollo down, he won’t get into too much trouble.” Clarke set him gently down in the living room floor with his stuffed bear and walked to the door. When she opened It, she was surprised to see Monty and Harper standing there.

“Monty? Hi,” she said. “And Harper. It’s nice to see you!”

Monty grinned at her. He was holding a covered casserole dish. “Merry Christmas, Clarke.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad you made it.”

They walked in the door and she was about to shut it when she saw another car pull up to the curb. Murphy hopped out and sprinted around the passenger side to open the door for Emori. Clarke laughed out loud watching John Murphy act like a gentleman. He took a bag from Emori’s hand and walked with her to the door. “Ho, ho, here’s the wine,” he yelled.

Emori shook her head, but she was grinning. She gave Clarke a warm hug. “Have you talked to Bellamy today?” she asked. Clarke shook her head.

“I get to talk to him tomorrow evening,” she said. Emori nodded. “It must be hard. Tell him we said hello, okay?”

“Yeah, tell him he still owes me a drink when he gets back,” Murphy laughed.

“Oh?” Clarke asked.

“I bet him that first night you met that you guys would end up together,” he said. “He didn’t believe me. It took nine years, but whatever. I haven’t forgotten.” He hugged her tight. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

“Hey, nobody calls me that,” said Murphy.

“John!” Emori called from the kitchen. “Let’s get that wine chilling.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows at him, and he grinned. “Well, almost nobody.”

Clarke joined the group and helped them unpack their food and set it out on the table. Just a few minutes later, the front door opened and Lincoln walked in, followed closely by Nate and Eric. They put a large salad on the table and turned to give hugs to everyone around them.

The house suddenly seemed full of life and activity. Clarke again marveled at the way Bellamy’s friends and her own had fit so seamlessly together. She was about to ask if this was it, when there was another knock on the door. She appeared to be the only who heard it, so she walked over and opened it to see Roan and Raven standing there.

“Hey, shorty. We’re a few minutes late. Had to get this pie perfectly browned,” he beamed. Raven tossed a bag of rolls at Clarke and laughed.

“I don’t really cook,” she said. She turned back and gave Roan a big kiss on the lips and Clarke stood awkwardly holding the rolls for a minute before she cleared her throat and they turned to look at her. She gestured with her head over to the living room where Nyx was staring at them, her little mouth in a perfect O.

“Right,” Raven said. “Keeping it PG. Come on, doc.” She took Roan by the hand and he winked at Clarke as they stepped into the house.

Octavia’s dining table was miraculously large enough to seat everyone, and while Clarke was the only person there without a partner, she felt more a part of a family than she had in years. Most recent years, she had either insisted on working that day so colleagues with spouses and children could be home, or she and Abby had had a quiet dinner together. This was more than she could have imagined. And even though Bellamy wasn’t there, he was brought up so often in the conversation that she felt his presence. At one point, Octavia had pulled a framed photo of him off her mantle and plopped it into the middle of the table like a centerpiece, and everyone had cheered and raised their glass in a toast. Clarke felt teary-eyed and more than a little drunk by the time the guests started to leave.

She was in the kitchen with Octavia, attempting to help clean up but Octavia kept waving her away. She poured her cup of coffee and gestured for her to just sit at the bar.

“You can keep me company while I finish up,” she said. “So you got a call scheduled with Bell tomorrow?”

“I do,” Clarke replied. “Do you want to come join me?”

Octavia shook her head. “No, he’s all yours this year. But tell him hi from all of us.”

“I will. And Octavia, thank you.”  
“For what?”

“For making me feel so welcome. Tonight was really nice.”

Octavia stopped drying the platter in her hand. “Clarke, I know we’ve had our differences. And I know I’ve been hard on you. I love my brother.”  
“I know,” Clarke said.

“And so do you. I know that now. I know how much he loves you, too. You’re part of the family now,” Octavia walked around to Clarke’s side of the bar and hugged her. “Don’t forget it.”

Clarke nodded into Octavia’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Mommy?” Nyx said softly. “We have to go to bed or Santa won’t come.” Both women looked down at Nyx’s serious little face and laughed.

“You’re right, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed.” Octavia said. Clarke stood up and picked Nyx up to hug her.

“I hope Santa brings you everything you want,” she said. “And I’ll call you tomorrow and find out, okay?”

“Oh! Here,” Octavia said. She walked over to the Christmas tree and rifled through the gifts. “This is from Bellamy. He wanted me to make sure you get it and not to open it until you’re on the phone with him.”

Clarke frowned and took the small wrapped box. “Thanks,” she said, tucking it into her bag.

She came home to a dark porch, having forgotten to turn on the light before she left.  
“Fuck,” she muttered, squinting to put the key in the lock. For a minute she froze, her heart racing. The night he’d been inside her house, it had been dark. She had opened the door and... “Okay, you’re fine,” she said to herself. “Deep breath. This is ridiculous.”

She entered her house and quickly locked the door behind her, leaning against it and sighing. She flipped the lights on and took her coat off, her fear dissipating as she looked around the living room. In the weeks since she had gotten home from New York, she had been able to settle most of their belongings into the new house. There were still boxes stacked against one wall and the guest bedroom was full of other boxes to be unpacked, but it already felt like home to her. She hadn’t wanted to bother with a big Christmas tree, opting to put some lights on her potted plant, but she liked the effect of the twinkling lights.

“Alexa, play some Christmas music,” she announced to the empty room. Bing Crosby started singing White Christmas as she ran herself a bath. The hot water and bubbles relaxed her and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She startled awake twenty minutes later. The water was getting cool and she hurriedly dried and dressed. Drowsy from the wine and boisterous dinner, she was asleep within minutes.

The next morning, after pouring herself a big cup of coffee, she sat down and opened a book that Bellamy had gotten for her. It was the first in a sci-fi trilogy, which had never been her favorite genre, but she loved how excited he got when she was able to discuss a book with him. “Let’s give it a try,” she said to herself. Within minutes she was completely absorbed and spent the better part of the morning turning the pages.

She dozed on the sofa, made herself a nice meal, and waited impatiently for Bellamy’s Skype call. When it was finally nearing time, she pulled her laptop out and sat on the bed, tapping her finger on the keyboard...waiting. When the call finally came in, she clicked on the camera immediately and saw Bellamy in his camos and camo cap. He had gotten scruffy from weeks of only periodic shaving. He was grinning at her and her heart melted. She wanted to cry with joy.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “Bellamy,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Everything okay?” his face flashed a brief concern.

She nodded. “I just...didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw your face,” she said.

He dipped his head and smiled. “I miss you too, sweetheart. How was dinner with the family?”

Clarke relayed all the details of the Christmas Eve dinner. Bellamy laughed when she told him his photograph joined them for dinner. His eyes lit up when she talked about the book she’d spent the day reading. They were both trying to get in as many words as possible before their time was up.

“Hey, did you open my gift yet?” Clarke asked. He shook his head and held it up to the camera. “I was waiting.”

“Open it!” she cried. She watched as he carefully unwrapped the box she had mailed a week before. He frowned down at the box and lifted a watch up to examine it. When he saw the inscription on the back his eyes widened and he looked up at her.

“Clarke,” his voice was hoarse with emotion. “I don’t know what to say.”

“He would want you to have it, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “He wore it to every deployment. It was one of his favorite possessions.”  
“I don’t know...” Bellamy said. “Maybe...”  
“It’s yours now,” she said. He slipped it onto his wrist and held it up for her to look at. “Merry Christmas, my love,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Now open yours.”

Clarke had been curious about this gift all day. She unwrapped the box and opened it to find a small figurine of a whale carved in dark wood. The arched back of the whale and the tail fin fit the curve of her palm perfectly and she ran her thumb along the underside. It felt like such a natural movement. It was smooth to the touch and obviously had been handled a lot. An antique? She looked at him quizzically, holding it up to the camera.

“It’s beautiful, Bellamy,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “It was...well, it’s mine. I’ve had it since I was a little kid.”

“Where did it come from?” she asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he replied. “I get these memories once in a while. They aren’t like real memories, just like...shadows. I don’t know how to describe it. But I remember holding this whale in my hands and standing on a beach. Somewhere. It’s hazy. I asked my mom where I got it and she said she had no idea.” He frowned. “But I used to carry it in my pocket everywhere. And when I was upset, I would take it out and hold it, and just...feel better. It sounds dumb.”

“No, honey. It doesn’t sound dumb. Not to me,” she said.

“Clarke, I know you get anxious. And I know you have panic attacks. And I can’t be there with you and...God, I want to be there with you. But I just want you to have something to hold. Something that reminds you of me. Something that might help you feel better.”

Clarke started to cry, clutching the little whale to her chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Clarke?”

She nodded. “I’ve never been more okay. Thank you, this is perfect. I love you, Bellamy.”

“I love you, too,” he sighed. “My time’s up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Hey, we only have six more weeks, right?”

“Yeah, six weeks. And I’ll be home.”

She signed off and put the laptop next to her bed. She ran her hands over the surface of the little carving, imagining Bellamy’s hands doing the same. He’d been right of course. It was immediately soothing to her. She smiled and placed the little whale on the nightstand and gazed at it until her lids grew heavy with sleep.

**********************************************************************

The seatbelt light turned on as the plane circled for the final descent. Bellamy looked at the watch on his wrist. He touched the dial with his finger and smiled. He didn’t know how much combat Jake had seen wearing this watch, but it still kept perfect time. Clarke would already be waiting at the terminal for him, she was always early. He tapped his knee and fidgeted as the plane taxied to a stop and everyone clamored to be first to pull their luggage from the overhead compartments. He sighed and sat patiently, catching the eye of a toddler held on his mother’s hip in the aisle. The woman smiled at him and whispered to her son, who gave Bellamy a little wave. He smiled and waved back as they walked past him on their way out of the plane. Someone finally made way for him to stand and grab his bag and he hurriedly pulled his leather jacket on and threw his duffle over his shoulder.

Once out of the plane, he headed straight for the main terminal and began looking around for Clarke. His cell phone battery was dead so he couldn’t text her but they’d agreed to meet near baggage claim. He looked at his watch again and then over at the nearby bar, suddenly craving a cold beer. He took a barstool near the entrance, ordered a beer and kept his eye near the baggage claim. As he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bartender he scowled and ran his hands through his hair. “Damn,” he said to himself, “you need haircut.” His hair was just above the collar of his jacket and he hadn’t shaved in three weeks so his beard was fully grown in as well. “What’s your wife going to think of you?” he asked his reflection. He smiled, thinking about Clarke as his wife. The idea was still so new to him. They’d had barely three weeks together before he’d gone.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he heard a woman’s voice behind him. “Table for two. Seven o’clock.” He glanced over to see Clarke standing not ten feet away from him, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, looking in his general direction but not apparently recognizing him from the back. He ducked his head and bit his lip, suppressing a smile as she walked closer. He glanced quickly into the mirror again to see her looking around, scanning the crowd.

“Hey, baby. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked in a low voice.

“Excuse me?” Clarke said sharply, turning to admonish who she thought was a stranger sitting at the bar. Her eyes flew open wide.

“Bellamy!” she cried out loud, nearly dropping her phone. He stood up just as she jumped into his arms, almost knocking him backwards. He laughed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground, breathing in her hair, her skin. He hadn’t forgotten how it felt to hold her, but he loved being reminded of just how perfect she fit into his arms.

“So,” she laughed as he put her down. “You serious about that drink, soldier?” He grinned at her.

“Absolutely.” They sat back down at the bar and he ordered her a beer, watching as she sipped it and wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin.

“God, I missed you. You’re more beautiful than I even remembered,” he said. She reached out and brushed a curl behind his ear.

“And you...look hot as hell. I’m liking the hair.” He smiled and stroked his chin.

“Oh yeah, how about the beard?” She leaned in and kissed him then sat back.

“Yep. It’s working for me.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled over the rim of his beer glass. “Working. As in, making you want to fuck me?”

Clarke shifted in her bar stool and crossed her legs, letting out a deep breath. “Definitely.”

Bellamy put his hand on her knee and traced his fingers lightly up her thigh. He leaned toward her and put his lips to her ear. “Definitely,” he whispered.

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of her head and pressed his thumb lightly against the hollow behind her jaw. “Elevated heartrate,” he said, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her again. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Dilated pupils.” His hand made its way back to her thigh and Clarke squirmed slightly in the barstool. “Shallow breathing.” He cocked his head and smiled at her. “What’s your diagnosis, doctor?”

Clarke took a long swallow of beer. “Aroused,” she said, standing up and moving in between his thighs. “And what about you?” Bellamy put his hands on her hips and let his eyes roam down to her breasts. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and swallowed hard.

“What’s the matter?” Clarke asked with a coy smile. “You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” She licked her upper lip suggestively and Bellamy’s eyes grew dark with lust. His grip on her hips tightened and she put her hands on his shoulders. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“What do you say I fuck you right now?” he growled. She raised her eyebrows and looked around, giving a small laugh.

“We’re in the middle of an airport, Bellamy,” she said.

He stood up and threw a ten on the bar, grabbing his bag in one hand and Clarke’s hand in the other, practically dragging her along with him. “There’s a USO lounge near the baggage claim,” he said. She started to argue with him but he was clearly taking charge and she was unbelievably turned on by it. She was practically sprinting to keep up with his long stride as he guided her towards the lounge, flashed his ID briefly to the attendant that was sitting outside and opened the door. They were in a small, sparsely furnished room. Two sofas in the middle of the room faced one another with a coffee table between them. There was a bar near the back and a door on the right opening into an even smaller bathroom. Bellamy threw his bag on the floor, led her into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He took his jacket off and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Clarke’s jaw dropped at how much more muscular he was after three months of combat training. She froze for a minute, staring at him.

“Undress,” he said roughly, as he unzipped his own pants and stepped out of them. She quickly pulled her own clothes off and he stood for a second, running his eyes up and down her body, his cock already rock-hard. “God damn, you’re gorgeous,” he said, picking her up and setting her onto the sink counter. He put a hand on each of her knees and pulled them apart. “My wife,” he said, “has a beautiful cunt.” He brought one hand up to her mound and put the heel of his palm firmly against her clit. “Open your legs wider,” he demanded. Clarke put her hands on the counter to steady herself. She was panting and dizzy as she opened her legs for him. “Wider,” he said. She leaned her head back and did as he said, moaning when she felt him rotate his hand and slide two fingers into her pussy.

“You missed me,” he said. “Didn’t you, baby?”

She nodded. He pulled his fingers out and thrust them back in. She yelped. “Use your words, Clarke. Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed you.”

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asked, pulling his fingers out then adding a third. Clarke squirmed and pressed her hips towards him.

“Yes,” she hissed, bucking her hips as he began to fuck her earnestly with his fingers.

“Did it feel this good?”

She shook her head. “No,” she was practically in tears.

“No. I bet it didn’t,” he said. He pulled his fingers from her suddenly and just as suddenly shoved half his cock into her soaking cunt.

“OHHHH, God!” she cried. Bellamy had a vice like grip on her hips as he pulled out and thrust himself into her again. She wrapped her legs around him and he picked her up, maneuvering her hips to meet his own thrusts. She put her arms around his neck and held on as he shifted slightly and backed her into the wall so he could push himself even deeper. Clarke grabbed his hair and yanked his head back leaning in to bring her mouth down hard on his. Her tongue made its way into his mouth and she felt him smile against her lips as she kissed him forcefully, continuing to hold his hair tightly in her fists. He groaned and began fucking her even more brutally against the wall. She could feel a bruise forming on her spine but couldn’t have cared less in that moment. All she wanted was to be completely taken by Bellamy, to have her body under his control. And from the sounds he was making, she knew he wasn’t thinking about anything other than possessing her either. It was the first time they had ever climaxed together. Bellamy huffed and pinned her to the wall with his body as she ground her hips against him and felt the heat of his cum filling her as her own body shuddered with release.

He held against the wall, still inside her, as they both caught their breath. She unwrapped her legs and Bellamy placed her softly on the floor. She was shaking and sweaty but started giggling uncontrollably.

He grinned at her, pulling some paper towels from the dispenser and getting them wet. He brought them up between her legs and cleaned her gently, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks as he did so.

“Welcome home,” she said and they started laughing again.

***************************************************************************************************

Bellamy wanted more than anything to go home and crawl into bed with Clarke and sleep for twelve hours, but she had made dinner reservations at a seafood restaurant she knew he loved and he didn’t have the heart to tell her to cancel them. For most of the plane ride home, he had been formulating how he would bring up something important he had decided to do and he would have preferred to do it at home. But as they sat and drank wine and ate scallops it seemed the time was right to bring it up.

“Clarke,” he said taking her hand across the table. “I’ve made a decision. About my future.”

Clarke put her other hand on top of his. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

He bit his lip and looked towards the ceiling for a minute as if the words he needed were up there in the rafters. “I’m leaving the Army. I’m taking early retirement.”

He watched Clarke’s expression change from one of curiosity to one of shock. “Bellamy?” she asked. “Are you...serious?”

He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got to the training exercise. It was sort of, I don’t know, surreal, being back in uniform with a rifle in my hands. It just didn’t feel right anymore. And...” he stopped.

Clarke squeezed his hand. “And what?”

He frowned. “I’m just...I guess I’m scared. To be perfectly honest. I wasn’t ever scared before. I always felt like I had nothing to lose. It made me good at what I did. In fact, it made me fucking great at what I did. But now that I have a wife, and maybe someday soon, a baby.” He gave her a quick smile. “No pressure. But those things mean more to me than this job. And I’ve done my time. I can take early retirement and get most of my salary and have time to think about taking a different direction.”

Clarke smiled at him. “What do you want to do?”

He looked down at the table, clearly a little bit embarrassed. “I was thinking of maybe going to school.” He sighed. “I know, it’s not the best idea.”

“Bellamy, it’s a great idea! Are you kidding me? You’ve wanted to go to school since I met you. You wanted to be a teacher.” They both got quiet for a minute.

“Do you remember everything about that conversation?” Bellamy asked quietly.

“Most of it,” Clarke said. “I remember a boy that had bigger ambitions than opportunities. I remember a boy that was set on taking care of his sister, who is now an adult. And I remember a boy that wanted to prove himself, who no longer has anything left to prove to anyone.” She looked him in the eye. “Do you still want to be a teacher?”

“I was thinking maybe a counselor…maybe,” he replied. “I want to do something to work with kids that feel like they’re out of options...just like I was.” He took a sip of wine. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’s the best decision you’ve ever made, except for marrying me.” She raised her glass. “To new beginnings.”

*************************************************************************

Bellamy frowned into the mirror and straightened his tie. “This isn’t sitting right,” he muttered to himself.

“Looks good to me,” Clarke said as she breezed past him. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room. She was wearing a fitted, strapless black evening gown, with all her curves beautifully accentuated. He was still staring as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her heels on. She looked over and smiled.

“You okay?”

“Other than not being able to take my eyes off of you, yeah,” he said. “You in that dress almost makes up for having to put this suit on.”

“Well,” Clarke said. “I know it’s a favor to me.” She stood and walked over to him. “But I have to think that getting to see you in a suit is a favor to every woman at this fundraiser tonight.” She put her fingers up to play with one of his curls. “I’m going to be the envy of every single woman there, and probably several of the men.”

Bellamy ducked his head and gave her a half smile. “We better get going. Traffic.” He helped her into her coat and pocketed the keys.

“You’re nervous,” Clarke teased as they drove to the hotel.  
“Your mom makes me nervous,” he admitted. “And the fact that you’re choosing tonight to finally tell her we’re married makes me even more so.”

“She will be in her element tonight. This gala event is the biggest fundraiser the hospital has every year. So, I know she’ll be on her best behavior. And I also know that she won’t embarrass herself, no matter what I say to her. Trust me. I’ve thought this through.”

Bellamy took his eyes off the road for a brief second to look at her. “I do trust you.”

They pulled into the circular drive of the historic hotel and parked in front of the valet stand. Bellamy got out and handed his keys to the valet and helped Clarke from the car, taking her arm and leading her towards the entrance.

They were directed to the large ballroom, which was elaborately decorated in a Valentine theme. White linens, gold flatware, and crystal, with red and white floral centerpieces graced each table. The ballroom itself was a gorgeous example of period architecture with dark wood rafters and high ceilings. A symphony was playing in one corner of the room and about half the guests had already arrived. Bellamy looked around for a server and motioned them over, taking two stem glasses of sparkling wine and handing one to Clarke. She was busying gazing around the room, looking for Abby, who she spotted talking to another hospital administrator. She gave Bellamy a little tug on his elbow. He looked over at Abby and sighed.

“Better get this over with,” he muttered.

Abby didn’t direct her attention to them until they were quite close. She flashed a brief smile at Clarke, but it faded as her eyes moved to Bellamy.

“Clarke, it’s lovely to see you,” she said, ignoring Bellamy altogether. She turned to the man she’d been speaking with. “This is my daughter, Dr. Clarke Griffin. She’s our best orthopedic surgeon.” The man shook her hand and turned to Bellamy.

“It’s actually Dr. Griffin-Blake,” Clarke corrected. “This is my husband, Bellamy Blake.”

Abby had just taken a sip of wine and coughed loudly. She recovered quickly and stared at Clarke, then at Bellamy.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bellamy offered his hand to the man and gave him a warm smile. “It’s nice to see you too, mom.” He said to Abby. She gave a little laugh and waved her hand, taking another sip of wine.

“Clarke, can I speak with you privately for just a minute?” Abby asked, walking away from the small group. Clarke looked at Bellamy and gave him a quick little thumbs up and followed her mom.

Bellamy watched them talk, with Abby barely controlling her anger and glancing over at him occasionally. Clarke was equally forceful, pointing at Abby, brows furrowed. After a few minutes, she returned, grabbing two more glasses of wine off a nearby server’s tray.

“Drink up,” she said, handing Bellamy one of the glasses. “We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?” he asked.

“My final emancipation from my mother,” she laughed. “Only about ten years too late, but better late than never.”

“Clarke, I... maybe I should go talk to her.”

“No,” Clarke said with more force than she meant to. “There’s no reason either of us have to keep trying to appease her. If she wants to be part of my life, she needs to accept that my life is mine. And that you are my family now.”

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of me, too,” she smiled. Her smile suddenly disappeared. “Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Cage Wallace just arrived.” She turned her back towards the door.

“Who’s Cage Wallace?”

“The asshole my mom set me up with years ago. I think she had hopes I’d be going out with him again, right up to about ten minutes ago.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I should have known he’d be here.”

“That’s the guy your mom set you up with?” Bellamy was watching the man cross the room, shaking hands, laughing and patting people’s shoulders. He was clearly in his element. An overpriced suit, a flashy watch, a two-hundred dollar haircut. “He looks...rich.”

“He’s inherited his father’s pharmaceutical company. He doesn’t just look rich,” Clarke said flatly.

Bellamy took a strand of her hair and brushed it gently out of her face. “Let’s go say hello,” he said. Clarke gave him a sly smile.

“Someone wants to show off,” she said.

“I have the most beautiful woman in the world as my wife,” he said. “Of course I want to show off.” He took her hand and they walked over to where Cage and Abby stood talking. Bellamy bristled when he saw Cage’s eyes travel up and down Clarke in her gown.

“Clarke,” he said, giving her a shark smile. “You look breathtaking.”

“Cage,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Bellamy.” Cage raised his eyebrows but gave no other indication he was surprised. He extended his hand to Bellamy.

“Bellamy, you are a lucky man.”

“I know,” Bellamy agreed. “I say that to myself every day.”

“Mmm,” was all Cage said in reply.

“I left our glasses at the bar,” Bellamy said to Clarke. “If you’ll excuse me.” He maneuvered back across the ballroom, noting the symphony had begun to play Beethoven’s Ode to Joy.

“Nice,” he said under his breath. He made it to the bar and picked up two fresh glasses of wine. As he turned back toward Clarke he saw her face go pale. In the next instant, she turned and half-stumbled, half sprinted toward the entrance.

“Clarke!” he yelled, dropping both glasses, which shattered onto the wood floor. Guests turned and stared at him, but he was already racing toward the entrance behind her. He caught up with Clarke who was standing on the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself.

“What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly. “Baby? What happened?”

“I need to leave!” she cried. “Please take me home.”

He didn’t ask any more questions, just yanked the valet ticket from his coat pocket and yelled at the attendant. “I need my car. NOW!”

He had his hand on Clarke’s arm or he wouldn’t have been able to catch her as she collapsed. He scooped her up into his arms and held her close to him.

“Shhhh,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m here. I’m gonna get you home.” He had no idea what had set off this panic attack, but he knew now wasn’t the time to ask.

The car circled into the driveway and the valet opened the door so he could place her inside and buckle her seat belt. As he was walking around the car, Abby rushed out the door.

“Bellamy, what is going on!” she shouted. He turned to her.

“She’s having a panic attack. I’m taking her home.”

“Well, what brought it on?” Abby asked. “One minute, she’s standing there talking to us, the next minute she’s running out the door.”

“I don’t know, Abby. And I don’t care,” Bellamy leaped into the driver’s seat and sped away, leaving Abby standing with the valet.

He accelerated onto the freeway, keeping an eye out for any police and pressing his foot on the gas. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he grabbed Clarke’s hand with the other.

“Baby, talk to me.” Clarke had her eyes closed and was panting like she’d run a marathon. “Clarke, do you have your medication with you?” he asked. She shook her head slowly.

“Okay, we’re going to be home in a few minutes,” he said.

They pulled into the driveway and he once again carried her out of the car and into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. When he finally got her into the bedroom, he laid her gently down and took her shoes off for her, then laid down next to her and pulled her close, waiting for her to speak.

“It was Cage,” she finally whispered.

“What?” he felt his heart stop.

“The symphony was playing Ode to Joy,” she said as though recalling a dream. “And Cage was standing next to me. He started humming.”

Bellamy felt his jaw tighten, felt bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to hear what she said next.

“Bellamy, it was Cage that raped me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been very excited to get to this big reveal and we hope you enjoyed this chapter. Can't wait for you to find how Bellamy and Clarke deal with the aftermath of Clarke's realization. Also, you may have noticed that we've added a couple more chapters. Their story just has a life of it's own and we want to do it justice.  
> Comments and kudos make us very happy, so please share your thoughts with us. We love hearing from you! Until next week. 😘  
> Kris


	16. A Little Confused - I Remember Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Clarke's realization, she and Bellamy both struggle with how to move forward and both are responding to different ideas of how to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: This chapter contains depictions of rape.

******************************************************************************************************************

Hours had passed since he’d helped her out of her dress and pulled the covers over her, brought her a glass of water and her anxiety medication. He’d gotten out of his suit and curled up next to her, her back pulled snug against his chest. She had cried herself to sleep, holding his hand against her own chest and he silently willed himself to absorb all of her pain so she wouldn’t have to bear it anymore. But now she slept, and he sat in a chair beside her, watching her breathe. Images of Cage at the gala, his eyes raking over Clarke’s body, made a knot of rage form in his gut. He was familiar with the feeling and knew what happened next if he allowed it. The rage would rise, it would take up more and more space, it would choke him. He fought it, for her sake. But as his heart rate would slow, he would again imagine the fear she felt, Cage with his hands on her, and the cycle repeated itself. So it was in this exhausted state that Clarke found him when she finally opened her eyes in the morning. He was half asleep, his chin lowered, his hands slack in his lap.

“Bellamy,” she whispered. His eyes flew open and he came to the bed and sat beside her, leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“Hey, Princess,” he said quietly. “How’re you feeling?”

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Not great. Did you spend the night in that chair?”

He shook his head. “I just got up,” he lied, shifting so he could lay back down beside her. She rested her head against his chest.

“I can’t believe I never put it together until last night. The way he was so insistent that I let him come in after our date. The way he smirked at me when I wouldn’t let him. He told me he’d see me later,” she shuddered. Bellamy tensed and struggled with his internal fury as they lay in silence for a few minutes. He took her hand and rubbed it lightly with his thumb.

“So what’s next?” she finally asked.

He thought about that for another minute. “I think we should talk to Octavia,” he could feel Clarke tense up. “Honey, she could give us legal advice. Tell you if there’s any way to pursue a case against Cage. He should be in jail.”  
  
Clarke spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know, Bellamy. I don’t think I can...talk about it anymore.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “That was the next thing I was going to suggest. Clarke, you need to see a therapist about this.”

“What good would it do?” she asked, throwing the blanket off and stepping out of bed. “I don’t want to keep reliving what happened.”

“But you already do,” he said. “Those panic attacks? That’s you reliving it, over and over. And it’s destroying you.”

She pulled some sweats and a Tshirt on and sat down next to him, pulling her hair into a ponytail. She leaned into him and he put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

“How am I going to ever face that man again?” she asked quietly. “And my mom? Bellamy, what if...”

“Shhhh,” he said. “I’m going to take care of it.”

She looked at him, her eyes red and puffy. “What do you mean? Take care of it?”

He took her hand and kissed it. “It means I’m going to make you some breakfast.”

She crawled back in bed and hugged him close. “That sounds good.”

Bellamy got up and got dressed, started a pot of coffee and made Clarke a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. He walked back down the hall to bring it to her but when he opened the door he saw she had gone back to sleep. He sat the glass down quietly on the night stand and went back to the kitchen, pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge.

He was sipping coffee and chopping vegetables for an omelet when there was a knock on the door. He peered out the front window to see Abby’s car in the driveway.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He opened the door and stepped out on the porch, forcing Abby to step back rather than come in the house. He pulled the door shut behind him.

“Clarke’s sleeping,” he said flatly.

Abby pursed her lips. “I wanted to check on her. Is she okay? I didn’t get out of the gala until much later last night or I would have come by then.”

“No, Abby. She isn’t okay. But she will be,” Bellamy replied. “I’ll tell her you stopped by.” He put his hand on the door knob.

“I’d like to come in,” she said.

“I told you she’s asleep. If she wants to talk to you, she can call you later.”

“She’s my daughter. I have every right to come in and speak with her,” Abby’s voice was rising to a higher pitch.

“She may be your daughter. But she’s my wife. And this is my house. And you aren’t welcome here,” he said.

“You have no right to speak to me that way,” she yelled at him. He turned on her and stepped close, forcing her to back up.

“You’ve controlled her life long enough. You’ve done things that led to her being harmed in ways you can’t even comprehend. You lied to her about me and you worked hard to keep us apart. We wasted nine years we could have been together, Abby. So you’ve lost your rights as far as I’m concerned.”

He turned to open the door when Clarke opened it from the other side. She looked exhausted, and angry.

“It’s okay, Bellamy. I’ll talk to her,” she said. Abby gave Bellamy a smug look. He crossed his arms in front of him and stared at her and then back at Clarke. He started to walk past Clarke, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. “No. I want you to stay. My mother needs to know that we trust each other, with everything.” He stopped and turned back around, taking her hand in his.

“I had a panic attack last night, mom. It was a bad one,” she began.

“I know, honey. I’m sorry I didn’t come over last night. It was late,” Abby began but Clarke held up her hand to silence her.

“I need to tell you what triggered it. Or, actually who triggered it.”

Abby frowned. “I don’t understand. We were standing there talking. It was just you and I, and Cage.”

“Cage Wallace raped me, mom. He raped me eight years ago. After I went on that date with him that YOU insisted I go on. I wouldn’t let him come in afterwards. But he came back a few days later. He was in my house when I got home, he knocked me out and he....I didn’t realize it was him until last night.” She wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over with sobs. Bellamy dropped to his knees on the porch and pulled her down onto his lap. Abby’s hand flew to her mouth and she let out a strangled cry as she watched Bellamy rock Clarke in his arms, whispering quietly in her ear.

“I...Clarke...honey, please look at me.” Abby stooped down and held her hand out to touch Clarke gently on the cheek. “My baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know! You never told me!”

“Because you always want to control every fucking thing I do!” Clarke screamed at her. “You controlled my healing from my accident. You controlled my fate when you decided to lie to me about Bellamy. And I knew you would even control my grieving over this. And this pain, mother...this pain is MINE!” Her voice was breaking and Abby stood back up and waited in silence until Clarke finally gained her composure enough to let Bellamy help her back up. He had remained silent through the whole thing, but he looked at Abby with a mix of anger and understanding.

“You should probably go,” he said quietly.

Abby sighed. “Clarke, please let me help you. I’ll do anything.”

“It’s too late,” Clarke said, wiping her eyes and glaring at Abby. “It’s years too late. If I had known Bellamy was alive, if I had found him like I should have, this never would have happened. And that’s on you.” She turned and walked into the house.

Abby stood frozen in place and Bellamy turned to follow Clarke.

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she said quietly. “For taking care of her. I’m sorry...I should have trusted you. I should have trusted her. I can call a lawyer. The police.”

He turned back around. “You can’t be serious. She just told you how your interference has fucking destroyed her and you still can’t get it through your head that this is her life? That this is our life? You need to stay out of it.” She started to say something else. “No, Abby,” he said. “I’m telling you, stay out of it.” He walked in the house and shut the door behind him.

**************************************************************************

They sat together on a sofa in Octavia’s office, Bellamy with his arm around her and she told her story in a shaky voice. Octavia sat behind her desk, taking notes, and glancing up whenever Clarke stopped speaking. She was shaking her head and frowning by the time Clarke finished. Getting up from her desk, she walked over and squatted down in front of Clarke, taking her hands in her own.

“Look at me, Clarke,” she said. “You were incredibly brave to come here and tell me this story.” She looked over at Bellamy who still had his arm around his wife. “And there is nothing I’d like more than to see this son of a bitch behind bars.” Bellamy ground his jaw and waited. “But it’s been over eight years. The statute of limitations for rape is seven years.”

“But she couldn’t identify him when it happened,” he said. “She can now.”

Octavia shook her head sadly. “It wouldn’t matter. Even if there was DNA. Which, from what you’ve told me, there isn’t?” Clarke shook her head and put her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes.

“He took my sheets, my clothes, he made me shower, he wore a condom...both times.” Her breath hitched. “He was wearing gloves when he punched me.”

Octavia looked at her brother, whose face was growing dark with hatred. She put her hand on his knee and he looked up at her as she gave him a small shake of her head, warning him to relax.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Unless you get an actual verbal or written confession from him,” Octavia said. “Just being able to identify his voice wouldn’t be enough, even if it happened yesterday. He wasn’t even really speaking, he was just humming. I’m sorry,” she said. She gave Clarke’s hand a squeeze. “Truly, I am.”

Clarke stood up and wiped at her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand.” Bellamy stood up and hugged Octavia.

“Thanks sis,” he said. “I just needed to know what our options were.” She gave him a funny look and walked them to the door.

“Why don’t you two come over for dinner this weekend?” she asked. “The kids would love to see you both.”

Clarke smiled. “That’d be nice. Thanks.” She turned to walk down the corridor and Octavia grabbed Bellamy’s arm.

“Bellamy, be careful,” she said. “I know that look.”

He nodded and said nothing, following Clarke out of the building.

********************************************************************

At Bellamy’s insistence, Clarke had agreed to meet with a therapist. He was waiting in the lobby for her, gently encouraging her to go in by herself.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said. She followed the receptionist into a spacious room with a luxurious sofa that faced two equally comfortable looking chairs. There was a small table in between them with a box of tissues and a bowl of chocolates. A beverage table was on the far side of the room and the receptionist told her to help herself to coffee or tea. Clarke remained standing, looking out the tall window at a carefully landscaped courtyard. She watched two sparrows scratch the ground and then take flight. She was still standing with her back to the door when she heard someone enter.

“Dr. Griffin?” a woman’s voice asked. Clarke turned to see a tall black woman with close cut hair and an impeccably tailored maroon suit coming towards her, extending her hand. Her dark eyes were so full of compassion and warmth, Clarke immediately relaxed.

“Yes, hello, Dr. Porter?”

“Please call me Indra,” the woman interrupted. “May I call you Clarke?”

She nodded and moved towards the sofa when Indra stepped aside and gestured for her to sit. Clarke was surprised that Indra chose to sit next to her on the sofa rather than one of the chairs. She picked up the bowl of chocolate and held it out to Clarke, which made her smile. She took one and unwrapped it slowly. Indra did the same and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

“I like a little serotonin boost in the afternoon,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “How about you?”

Clarke relaxed even more. This was like going to visit a favorite aunt, someone who always spoiled you with treats and made you feel special. Indra was watching her thoughtfully.

“Tell me what you do to make yourself happy, Clarke,” she said matter-of-factly.

Clarke had expected to just launch into her traumatic experience so this threw her a little bit.

“Oh, well. Let’s see. I just got married a few months ago.” Indra laughed. A deep, rich laugh.

“Okay, so I know what you probably do for fun,” she said. “Word to the wise. I’ve been married for fifteen years. Girl, get another hobby.” They both laughed. “But enjoy that honeymoon phase. Is that your husband in the waiting room?”

“Yes. That’s Bellamy,” she said. Indra nodded approvingly.

“He looks kind,” she commented.

“He is,” Clarke answered. “It was his idea that I come here...to see you.”

Indra pulled a tiny notebook from her jacket pocket and picked up a pen from the table. “You aren’t having marital trouble already, are you?”

Clarke shook her head forcefully. “No! Not at all. He just thinks...I mean...he’s right, of course. He thinks it’s time that I deal with something...something that happened years ago.” She was rambling and didn’t know where to start. Indra looked down at Clarke’s hands, which she was wringing furiously in her lap. She put her notebook down and leaned back into the sofa.

“How long have you had panic attacks?” she asked. “I’m assuming they’re related to whatever it is that happened?” Clarke nodded and tried to pull her hands apart and keep them still.

“Uhm, about eight years,” Clarke said. She inhaled deeply and took the plunge. “I was raped eight years ago. By a man I still have contact with. I didn’t know it was him until a few days ago, though. And now I’m just reliving the whole event. I mean, I never truly got over it, but now I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m terrified, I’m angry....” Her words were just tumbling out all at once.

Indra put her hand on top of Clarke’s. “Take your time,” she said gently. “We’ll get through this. I want you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, okay?” Clarke nodded and took several deep breaths.

Indra began to speak, telling her she understood her pain, her anger. She told her that she herself had been the victim of sexual assault years before, too. Hearing another woman’s story made Clarke feel suddenly like a weight had been lifted. She opened up to Indra, telling her about her mother, how she had been the one who had suggested she go on this date in the first place. Their time was up before she knew it. She accepted Indra’s hand gratefully and promised to come back the following week. She left the office feeling like the fist that had been holding her heart in a vice grip had relaxed just a tiny bit.

***************************************************************************

Bellamy had waited until Clarke disappeared down the corridor into Indra’s office. He pulled his phone out and tapped a number in, waiting, looking around at the otherwise empty office. A voice finally picked up on the other end.

“Hey, it’s Bellamy,” he said. “I need a favor.”

*****************************************************************************

Octavia passed Bellamy the meatloaf and he took it with one hand, his other wrapped around Nyx who had planted herself in his lap as soon as he sat down and refused to move during dinner. Clarke reached over and spooned a heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate and he gave her a grateful smile. She grinned at him, watching him tickle his niece and make her laugh. The evening was just what she needed, to be surrounded by family, to feel safe and happy, and to see Bellamy’s tension ease. He had been overly attentive to her since the night of the gala, holding her close to him every night until they fell asleep, texting her throughout the day to check in. But he had also been dark and moody, lost in his own thoughts on several occasions. So the change when he was with his family was making her feel like everything would be okay. She relaxed and took a sip of her beer.

“So, Bellamy, how’s retirement treating you?” Lincoln asked.

Bellamy grinned. “It’s great, so far. I start working part time at the youth center in a week. I’m coaching soccer and teaching rock climbing.”

Nyx shifted in his lap and looked up at him, putting her small hand on his face. “How do you climb a rock?”

“You have to be careful and use a harness and ropes, and have really strong hands,” he held his hand up to her and she put her tiny one up to it. Her fingertips didn’t even reach the edge of his palm.

“I don’t think I can climb a rock,” she said sadly. Bellamy laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“I can teach you when you get a little bit bigger.” He looked back up at Lincoln. “I’m going to start school, too. Just an Associate Degree, but I want to work in the Juvenile Justice system. I’m thinking of maybe being a correctional officer, work with teenagers.” He looked over at Clarke and she smiled at him. They had already had numerous conversations about his future and they both agreed this would be a good path for him. Lincoln was nodding enthusiastically.

“We can always use more correctional officers,” he said. “Especially compassionate ones. I have a lot of families on my docket right now that need help. I can get you set up as soon as you’re ready to go.”

Bellamy grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Octavia lifted her beer bottle. “To new beginnings,” she said.

“To new beginnings,” they all repeated.

As they were leaving, Octavia held Bellamy back as Clarke headed to the car.

“Is she doing okay?” she asked. “She told me she started seeing a therapist.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s helping. She’s a strong woman. I don’t know how she keeps it together, but she does.”

“She has you,” Octavia said. “That’s how. Speaking of which. How are you doing?”

“Me? Fine, why?”

“You know why, Bellamy. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, sis. I’m good.”

“I know how angry you are about what happened, Bell. And I know how your moral compass works. You want justice for her. And I hope you get it. But I also hope you protect yourself. You aren’t going to help her at all if you lose your shit, okay?”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the concern, O. It’s all good.”

She crossed her arms and watched him walk to the car. “If you say so,” she muttered to herself.

*****************************************************************************

The luxury sedan made its way through the coded entry gate and up the long drive towards the massive stone house. He tapped the garage remote and glided the car in, closing it behind him. He was a fanatic about security, changing his entry keycode every three days. Tapping in the digits, he waited until the light glowed green and walked into the dark house carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder. Tucking his keys in his pocket, he flipped on the kitchen light and a few minutes later he had a whiskey on ice in his hand.

He made his way upstairs into the bedroom, taking a drink and smiling to himself as he relived the night’s events. He set the bag down on the bed, opened it and pulled off his tie. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the dark, sipping his whiskey and pulling the contents of the bag out to hold them up to his face, breathing in her scent. He closed his eyes and imagined her face, the fear, the confusion, and finally the acceptance. He could almost get hard again just thinking about that. But now was not the time. He put the clothes back into the bag and stood, pulling his keys from his pocket and stepping down the hallway to another room with a deadbolt. He unlocked it, walked in and set the bag on a table in the middle of the room. He was humming as he browsed the rows of small, locked cages, each of them a sort of memento, each of them tied to a specific conquest. His fingers lightly ran along each one, until he came to an empty cage. He used another key to open this one and place the contents of the bag inside it.

Cage continued down the row, pausing at one and opening it, pulling out the locket that he had placed on top of the neatly folded clothes. Her locket. He opened it to see a young Clarke, smiling, sitting in her father’s lap. The other side had a small picture of Abby. She’d really let him down. Her daughter was the perfect companion for him, beautiful, intelligent, fiery. He’d known it as soon as they met, at Abby’s encouragement. Clarke would be his wife. He’d thought the date had gone well, he’d spent a lot more on her than any of his usual dates. But she’d disappointed him in the end. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, not really. But her rejection of him had been a harsh blow to his ego. Admittedly, she hadn’t been his first conquest, or his last. But she was still his favorite. Even after two years in an unsuccessful marriage, he thought about Clarke. His wife, unaware of his ‘extra-curricular’ activities, seemed satisfied with his explanation that this locked room housed corporate secrets. She had been happy to spend his money and keep her opinions to herself. But eventually she’d left, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ in the divorce. He didn’t miss her. But he did miss Clarke. When Abby told him that he would see Clarke at the gala, his emotions got the best of him. His first time to lay eyes on her in eight years, but not the only time he’d been paying attention. He’d been keeping track, following her career. So when he’d first seen her at the gala, he’d felt...what? Love? It wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with, but he had definitely felt a sense of fate working in his favor. Bringing Clarke back into his world. But then, his world had crumbled. She introduced him to her husband, a dark, brooding hulk of a man, lacking any finesse, any culture. What a waste. She didn’t belong with that low life. She belonged with him. Watching this man put his arm around her, his familiarity with her, made him seethe internally. He could barely conceal his rage.

He ruminated for days, finally giving in to what he knew would ease some of the tension. The woman had looked enough like Clarke for him to close his eyes and pretend it was her as he fucked her. She had barely put up a fight, which had pissed him off. It hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as he’d wanted.

He turned and cursed softly, realizing he’d left his drink in the bedroom. He walked back to the room, able to navigate the space in the dark. As he reached for the whiskey glass he heard a deep voice, a low growl really, coming from the chair in the dark corner.

“You and I need to talk, Cage.”


	17. People Tell Me Its a Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy confronts Cage and discovers the lengths he'll go to for the ones he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: This chapter contains violence.  
> T/W: This chapter contains depictions of rape.

************************************************************************************************************************************

Cage froze and looked down at the red laser dot on his chest. He peered into the dark corner where the voice had come from.

“Who are you?” he said, trying to sound forceful. “How did you get in here?”

The lamp switched on and his stomach knotted in fear. A man was sitting in the chair, wearing all black, leather gloves, and a dark knit hat on his head. He was pointing a gun at Cage.

“You,” he breathed out. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. He gave his head a shake. “What do you want?”

The man rose from the chair slowly, the gun trained on Cage. “I want you to put your hands on the wall.” Cage glanced at the nightstand where he’d left his whiskey glass and his cell phone. He had a panic button on the underside of the table, a second line of security. His eyes travelled to the table but the man stepped closer. “Do what I tell you to.” His voice was quiet, calm.

Cage put his hands on the wall and turned his head to the side as the man walked closer behind him. “Don’t move.” He was closer now. Cage was sweating underneath his jacket. His pulse was racing. He listened as the man took his cell phone off the nightstand and put it under his boot, crushing it with his heel.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here. I don’t remember your name, but if you leave now...”

“It’s Bellamy,” the man said firmly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” He took a sip of Cage’s whiskey. “And neither are you.” Cage could hear the glass being set back down, then felt the gun touching the back of his head. “Take your jacket off, slowly. Then get your hands back on the wall.” Cage did as he was told, handing Bellamy his jacket. He watched him cross the room and stuff the jacket in a bag. Making a split second decision, he darted toward the underside of the nightstand. Bellamy looked over his shoulder at him as he tucked the gun in his waistband.

“It’s been deactivated,” he finally said. “It’s just you and me. All night long.” He walked back over to where Cage stood.

Cage glared at him. “Look I don’t know what Clarke told you,” he started. “We went out. We had a good time,” he sneered. “We had a great time actually. She’s pretty wild in bed. But I guess you know that already.” He immediately regretted his words when he saw the shift in Bellamy’s expression. He had no time to react as Bellamy lunged at him, putting his hands to his throat and backing him up, slamming his head hard into the wall.

“That’s not really the way she tells it,” he hissed, his face inches from Cage’s. Bellamy brought his knee up hard into Cage’s groin, making him howl and double over. He threw him onto the ground and put his foot between his shoulder blades. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“What do you want? Money? An apology?” Cage’s voice was thin, higher pitched, laced with fear. His questions were met with silence. Bellamy knelt beside him and roughly zip-tied his wrists together. He then grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet.

“Where’s your computer?” he asked.

“What? My computer? Why?”

Bellamy dragged him out of the bedroom and towards the open door down the hallway. “Is it in here?” he asked.

“Fuck you,” Cage spat. “I’m not telling you a god damn thing.” Bellamy shoved him into the room and walked in behind him. His eyes took in the rows of cages and the neatly stacked belongings in each one. He turned slowly to Cage.

“What the fuck is this?” he said in a low voice. “Your trophy room?” He pulled Cage over to the table and pushed him down into the chair beside it. Cage’s keys were still sitting on the table and Bellamy picked them up, running his fingers over them lightly and settling on the small one that would open the cages. He peered into the first one, seeing carefully folded sheets, clothes, a photograph in a frame of a smiling young woman. Cage was seething, watching Bellamy move around the room like he owned it.

“Which one is hers?” he asked quietly. Cage just glared at him. Bellamy continued down the row, stopping and putting the key to the lock. He sifted through the stack of printed articles and pictures of Clarke that Cage had added to the stash. “You mother fucker,” he heard Bellamy mutter under his breath. He watched as Bellamy pulled the delicate locket out, holding it up to his face and then putting it in his pocket.

“Did you hit all of them?” he asked, his back to Cage.  
“What?” Cage responded.

“Before you raped them? Did you punch all of them in the face, like you did my wife?” He turned and his gaze was boring into Cage as he shifted in his chair. He was enraged that Bellamy was rummaging through his things, his private, intimate space. He had taken the locket that belonged to him. His rage gave him a moment of courage. He sucked his teeth and cocked his head at Bellamy.

“No, not all of them. Some of them didn’t put up a fight at all. But Clarke? I took her to the best restaurant, we had box seats at the symphony. I gave her the night of her life. She could have invited me in that night. She could have shown some appreciation. Instead, she acted like I was beneath her. Like she was too good for me. So yeah, I punched her in the face. And I enjoyed it. Not as much as I enjoyed fucking her though.”

He barely had time to register that Bellamy had moved before he felt a stunning blow on the side of his face. A second punch and his vision blurred. His head lolled back against the chair.

“You son of a bitch!” he groaned. “You break into my house. You identify yourself. You think you’re getting away with this? You’ll be arrested for assault and battery.”

“I didn’t assault you. You fell down the stairs,” Bellamy said matter-of-factly. He hoisted Cage back up from the chair and dragged him out of the room to the top of the stairway.

“No!” Cage yelled as Bellamy gave him a shove and watched him topple down the stairs and land in a heap at the bottom.

**************************************************************************

Bellamy stood at the top of the stairs as Cage groaned in pain, laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was still seeing the entire scene play out through a haze of red as he struggled to control the rage monster that was completely overtaking him. He hadn’t meant to lay hands on Cage at all, much less beat him this badly. But his mention of what he’d done to Clarke, the smug expression on his face, that had pushed Bellamy over the edge of reason.

“Fuck,” he said to himself. He’d wanted this to look like a suicide. Plan B, make it look like a break in. He came down the stairs slowly, deliberately, enjoying the sight of Cage cringing at his feet like a kicked dog. The monster inside him was still hungry, still needed to be fed. He put his hands under Cage’s arms, yanking him back up to his feet.

“I think I broke a rib,” Cage coughed. “Please, can we just talk?”

“We are talking, Cage,” he said. “You were about to tell me where your computer is, remember?” Cage started shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “I wasn’t.”

“Suit yourself,” Bellamy said. He punched Cage hard in the gut, making him moan in pain. He gave him another rough shove and Cage sat down hard on the bottom step. “If you’re smart, you won’t move,” Bellamy warned. He walked into the living room and began ransacking the space, pulling items off shelves and throwing them on the floor. He opened cabinet doors, pulled things out at random. He moved on to the fireplace mantle, smashing a glass figurine onto the stone hearth. There was a pocket door on the other side of the room and he opened it to find a small office space.

“Bingo,” he said as his eyes landed on a desk with a closed laptop sitting on it. He opened every desk drawer and pulled files out, opening them and placing them on the desk and throwing some on the floor. He opened the closet and pulled archive boxes off of shelves and picked through them as well. He stood back and surveyed the room, satisfied that it looked sufficiently ransacked. Then he picked up the laptop and walked back to where Cage was sprawled on the bottom step. Bellamy gestured for him to get to his feet and he shoved him in the direction of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” Cage asked, not daring to look back at Bellamy.

“I’m hungry,” Bellamy replied. He followed Cage into the spacious kitchen and gave a low whistle. “Damn, Cage. The last drug dealer I knew lived in a shit hole. You must make a lot more money with the drugs you sell.” He pushed him into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and put the laptop in front of him. Next, he pulled his own chair up close and opened the computer, frowning momentarily at the screen. He looked over at Cage. “I need your password,” he said.

“No,” Cage said. Bellamy pursed his lips and rose slowly from the table and walked behind him. His hands were still zip-tied at his back and Bellamy reached down and put his fingers around one of Cage’s thumbs.

“You have ten opportunities to give me the correct password,” he said.

Cage hesitated and Bellamy snapped his wrist, breaking Cage’s thumb. He screamed in pain. “Now you have nine.” He patted Cage on top of the head. “Are you ready to cooperate yet?” Cage nodded. He was panting and nearly delerious from pain as he coughed out the password and Bellamy typed it in.

He spent the next few minutes browsing around Cage’s computer, occasionally looking over the top of the screen at Cage. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Cage Wallace,” he muttered. “The shit you have on this laptop alone could have you arrested. Wait until they see what’s upstairs.”

“You’re going to regret this, you bastard,” Cage whispered. “My lawyers are going to fucking nail your ass to the wall.”

Bellamy gave him a slow smile. “By the time I’m done with you, Cage, there won’t be enough left of you to call a lawyer.” Cage’s eyes grew wide with fear. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Bellamy shrugged and slapped his thighs. “I’m starving. What do you have to eat?” He got up and started rummaging around the kitchen, opening the fridge, taking out containers and looking into them. He started humming, which made Cage’s skin crawl. Bellamy looked over at him and grinned.

“You have my favorite,” he lifted a container of leftovers from an expensive Japanese restaurant. “Do you mind?” Cage glared at him. Bellamy put the leftovers in a bowl and popped it into the microwave, then brought the bowl over and sat down at the table again, eating in front of Cage and continuing to browse the computer files he’d opened. “Some of these chat rooms you’re in?” he shook his head. “Disgusting,” he snorted. He kept stuffing food in his mouth then pulled his gloves off, got up and carefully washed all the dishes and came back to put his gloves back on. He finally pushed the computer away and crossed his arms, regarding Cage. “You look pale. You feelin’ alright?” 

“I have a broken rib, and a broken thumb,” Cage responded. “No, I’m not alright.”

“Well,” Bellamy stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket. “You’re in luck. I have something for you.” He placed a prescription bottle on the table in front of Cage. “Read the label,” he said. Cage’s eyes roamed over the bottle. “It’s one of yours, right? Your company makes this?” Bellamy asked. Cage nodded. Bellamy picked the bottle up and shook it. “These are mine. I was supposed to be taking them after my surgery.” He shook his head. “But I just couldn’t do it. See, this is the same prescription that turned my mom into a junkie. At least, this is what started it. She eventually moved on to even harder stuff. That’s what killed her.”

Cage sighed heavily. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Bellamy stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “I’m a reasonable man, Cage. I don’t blame you for my mom’s drug problem. Not completely anyway. But do you know how many thousands of people get addicted to this shit?” He waited for a response. “No? No idea?”

“I know that lab results have...”  
“Fuck lab results!” Bellamy yelled, making Cage shrink back. “I’m talking about real people. Actual human beings who start out just wanting to get some relief from their pain and then, weeks, months, maybe years later, they’ve become something else. They neglect their families, their kids, they don’t care about anything but getting more of these fucking pain killers.” He laughed bitterly. “So your drugs have caused a lot more pain than they’ve ever healed. And that makes two people I love whose lives you destroyed.”

Cage’s mouth was bleeding and his eye was swelling where Bellamy had punched him. “I’m...sorry,” he finally said. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Bellamy stood up again and walked back into the kitchen, returning with a glass and the bottle of whiskey Cage had left sitting on the counter. He poured some into the glass and then opened the bottle of pills.

“NO,” Cage said forcefully.

“I’m giving you something for the pain,” Bellamy said. He tapped out ten of the small, white pills into his gloved palm. He was towering over Cage.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed. Cage locked his jaw and Bellamy grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head back. “Open...your fucking...mouth,” he hissed. Cage was shaking as he opened his mouth and Bellamy dropped all ten pills in. He picked the whiskey glass up in his other hand and held it to Cage’s lips. “Take a drink,” he said. Cage swallowed the pills and Bellamy released his head, which he immediately dropped onto the table top.

“I can give you money. Set you and Clarke up for life,” he whispered. He was sobbing.

Bellamy knelt down close to his ear. “What about all the other women you’ve hurt?” he asked softly. “All the other lives you’ve ruined?” He took a seat again and watched Cage try to compose himself.

“You’re not really going to kill me,” Cage said, clearly not exactly sure if he believed it himself.

“I killed people for a living,” Bellamy said flatly. “I’ve killed people I’ve never met before. People who had never done a damn thing to me personally. You raped my wife. You hurt the woman I love. I have no problem killing you.”

“You’ll go to jail. Clarke will be alone.” Cage was desperate. “She loves you. I saw how she looked at you. You really want to disappoint her like this? Make her see what kind of person she decided to spend the rest of her life with?” He saw Bellamy’s expression change, just barely, but he knew he’d gotten to him.

“We’re going back upstairs,” Bellamy said, standing up and giving Cage a tug on the arm. “The drugs will be kicking in soon. You’ll want to be lying down.” He left the computer open on the table.

****************************************************************************

Cage stood up on wobbly legs and made his way towards the stairs. He tripped and felt Bellamy grab his arm and half-drag him the rest of the way up to the bedroom. He collapsed on the bed face down and felt Bellamy slice through the zip-ties. He groaned in relief and moved his arms in front of him. His head was spinning and Bellamy roughly rolled him over onto his back.

He watched through heavy lids as Bellamy moved around the room. He heard him pick up the whiskey glass from the nightstand, go back to the bathroom, water running, Bellamy returning.

He could barely keep his eyes open now but felt a presence and could make out the man standing over him, the gun in his hand, as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die.”

He could no longer move any of his limbs. The drug was coursing through his veins and he felt heavy and weightless at the same time. He just wanted to sleep.

*****************************************************************************

Bellamy walked back to the corner of the room and sat heavily. He pulled his hat off, put his head in his hands and tugged his hair, rocking back and forth as he fought back the memories that were flooding his brain. He never should have taken his mother’s body from their house. He never should have set Jason’s house on fire. And he never should have come here. But he realized in that moment that it was fate that had been determining his path all along. All of his past actions, his past decisions, had led him to this moment. Fate had decided it would be he who would slay Clarke Griffin’s monster. But it had also decided that it would be he who would break her heart by becoming a monster himself. 

He took a deep breath and pulled the locket from his jacket, turning it over in his hands. The cover had an embossed griffin on it, the wings spread to cover the surface. He opened it and stared at the tiny pictures inside. Clarke with her father on one side, Abby on the other. He snapped it shut and closed his hand over it, breaking into a sob. “I’m sorry, Clarke,” he cried.

He sat for another minute before he came to a decision. He picked up the gun, walked back to the bedside and stood over the unconscious Cage. He put his face down close to Cage’s to make sure he was still breathing. “Fuck fate,” he said under his breath. Abruptly, he turned, put the gun in the bag and walked out, closing the door behind him. He crept out the back door and paused at the end of the long driveway, pulling out a burner phone. He tapped a number in and waited until there was a voice on the other end.

“I need you to trip the alarm,” he said. He paused. “Yeah, I know, change of plans. Just do it. The cops need to get here in the next few minutes.” He hung up, sprinted down the street and didn’t stop as he heard sirens wailing in the distance.

****************************************************************************

Clarke walked into the bar and looked around. It was completely empty and she frowned as she approached Raven who had her back to her and was putting some glasses away.

“Hey,” she said. Raven turned around and her face registered surprise.

“Clarke! Hi! What are you doing here?”

Clarke laughed. “Well, Bellamy said he was coming here to hang out and have a drink while I was at work. I finished up early and thought I’d join him.” She gestured towards the empty bar. “But clearly, he isn’t here.”

Raven started giving the bar a vigorous wipe and didn’t make eye contact with Clarke. “He was here. He just stepped out for a second. I think he was hungry and I don’t have anything back there but some frozen chicken wings.” She gave a nervous laugh. “That man can eat.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah, I noticed. Thankfully, he likes to cook.” She took off her coat and sat down at the bar. “Do you mind if I just wait here then? I’ll have a beer.”

“Sure,” Raven said, pulling a bottle from the cooler and popping it open.

Clarke leaned on her elbows and gave Raven a conspiratorial look. “So, how’s Roan?”

Raven gave her a slow grin. “He is...quite a man.” She sighed. “He’s in the Philippines right now, doing his doctor thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clarke said. “That has to be hard. But hey, Bellamy was gone for a while and let me tell you, the homecoming sex is...amazing.” She blushed just thinking about Bellamy in the USO lounge at the airport.

Raven laughed at that. “Well, I’m looking forward to it.” They both turned when they heard the door open and saw Bellamy coming in, pulling the knit cap off and shaking his head. He looked at Clarke and stopped in his tracks.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. He glanced at Raven who pulled his cell phone out from under the counter.

“In your rush to go get something to eat, you forget your phone,” she said, sliding it to him across the bar.

He picked it up and nodded. “Yeah, thanks for keeping an eye on it.” He put his arm around Clarke and kissed her cheek. “So you’re having a drink. I should have one too.”

Clarke looked at him questioningly. “Didn’t you already?”

“Yeah. I mean...I should have another now that you’re here.” Raven popped a bottle open and shoved it in front of him. He took a long swig and wiped his mouth.

Clarke excused herself to go to the bathroom and Bellamy leaned over the bar. “What is she doing here? Did you call her?” he whispered.

“No, she just showed up. She got off work early. What the hell is going on, Bellamy?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said. He sucked down the rest of his beer. “I need a tab that started two hours ago.”

“Already done,” she said. “This is your third beer. I drank the other two by the way. Thanks.”

Ordinarily that would have made him smile, but he was staring down at the bar, lost in thought as Clarke walked back up.

“Almost ready to go?” she asked. “I worked through dinner, so I need to get home.”

Bellamy nodded and started to rise out of his bar stool as the door opened again. All three of them stared as Miller and another police officer walked in.

“Hey, Miller,” Raven called out. “The new uniform looks good on you! If you’re off duty now, I’ll buy you a drink.” She locked eyes with Bellamy as Miller and his partner approached the bar.

“Clarke, it’s nice to see you,” Miller said. Clarke nodded.

“You, too,” she said. “You and Eric should come have dinner with us soon. We’d love to have you over to our new place.”

Miller gave her a smile and turned to Bellamy. “I went by the house but you weren’t there, so I thought I’d come here to see if we could find you. We need to talk, Bell.”

Bellamy cocked his head. “About what?”

“We just came from a break-in and what looks like an attempted homicide,” Miller said. “A guy named Cage Wallace.”

“Oh my god!” Clarke exclaimed.

“Do you know him?” Miller’s partner asked her.

She nodded. “He’s...” she faltered. “He and my mom are...well-acquainted. He’s the CEO of a pharmaceutical company.” Her voice faded and she looked at Bellamy with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“Well, someone broke in his house and damn near beat him to death. He was drugged up and unconscious when we got there. He started to come to a little as we were getting him in the ambulance,” Miller said. He looked pointedly at Bellamy and lowered his voice. “He said you’re the one who did it.”

Clarke gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. “What?” She looked at Bellamy.

“Not possible,” Raven said loudly from behind the bar. “He’s been here all night. Keeping me company.”

Miller and his partner looked over at Raven. “You’re sure about that?” his partner asked.

Raven stared at him pointedly. “Positive.” Miller’s head swiveled back to Bellamy.

“I have been,” he said. “Clarke was working. I came down to hang out. I haven’t been anywhere else. You wanna see my tab?”

Miller bit his lower lip and stuck his hands in his pockets. He shook his head slowly. “No. I believe you. But I need to ask...” he looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his chin. “I need you to come in tomorrow morning. Just to answer some questions.”

Clarke put her arm through Bellamy’s and frowned at Miller. “Nate, you can’t be serious. When I got here after work, Bellamy was here, with Raven. There’s no reason he needs to be questioned.”

Miller shrugged. “I’m sorry. I believe you. I do. But if a suspect is named, we have to follow up.”

Bellamy nodded. “It’s fine, Miller. I’ll be there.” He pulled Clarke a little closer.

“Okay, thanks. I appreciate it,” Miller said.

“Okay, can all of you get out of here so I can clean up and go home?” Raven asked.

Miller and his partner left and Clarke picked up her coat. “I’ll meet you at home, if you’re okay to drive?” she asked. She seemed anxious and her voice came out in a croak.

“I’m right behind you,” Bellamy said. “It’s okay, Clarke. Everything is going to be okay.” She didn’t say anything, just walked out.

He turned to get his phone and keys. Raven was frowning at him. “I don’t know what the change of plan was about,” she said. “And I don’t want to know, okay? I turned your phone on and made a couple of calls to people in your contacts so the pings will come from the local tower. I’ve got a bar tab for you using your credit card for the whole night. You should be covered.”

He felt a heaviness in his chest at her loyalty. He took a deep breath. “Thanks, Raven.”  
“I’ve got your back, Bell. Now go talk to your wife.”

*****************************************************************************

Clarke was sitting on the sofa, in the dark, when he walked in the door. He took his jacket and hat off and held them in his hands as he approached her. She flipped on the light on the side table and he could tell she was crying from across the room.

“You look like a burglar,” she said flatly, gesturing to his all black clothing. “Is this what you wear to hang out with friends?”

“Clarke,” he started towards her and she wrapped her arms around herself, making it obvious that she didn’t want him near her. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and waited for her to speak.

“You told me we’d figure this out together,” she said, staring down at the floor. “You suggested we talk to Octavia, you suggested I get therapy. We did those things.” She finally looked over at him. “But, you never suggested that you should go murder him. Bellamy...what have you done?” she cried.

He sighed heavily. “I didn’t murder him.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well you got pretty damn close, it sounds like.”

“And he would have deserved it,” Bellamy said forcefully. “He’s a fucking monster, Clarke. He hurt you! And I can’t just...sit here and see you fall apart. Watch you lose everything because of him.” His voice started to crack. “I...can’t.”

She shifted her position and put her feet up under her, facing him. “Bellamy, I didn’t lose everything,” she said quietly. He had his head in his hands. “Look at me, please.”

He put his hands down on his knees, swallowed hard, and turned to face her.

“I didn’t lose everything. I have you,” she said. “And that’s enough.” She wiped her eyes. “Or at least, I had you. I don’t know what will happen now. What if you go to jail? What if he dies? Then I _will_ have lost everything because of him. Bellamy...”

He reached over and took her hand. “I won’t lie to you. I went there to kill him,” he said. “And the things I saw in that house...the things he’s done? And the things he said to me about you?” His other hand was balled into a fist on his thigh and he clenched his jaw before he went on. “I could have killed him and stopped it all, easily, and not given it a second thought.” He ran his thumb lightly over the back of her hand. “But then I started thinking of you, and what we have, and all it took for us to get where we are.”

“Is it really over?” she asked.

“There was enough evidence in his house to put him away,” Bellamy said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I made it look like a break-in. The cops wouldn’t even need a search warrant when they got to his house. It became a crime scene once the alarm was tripped. So, I left the evidence of his...crimes, out in the open. Even if I go to jail, Cage will be locked up and he won’t be able to hurt you anymore, Clarke.”

He reached over to his jacket that was lying next to him on the sofa and rummaged into the pocket. He pulled the locket out and picked up her hand to lay it gently into her open palm.

“Whatever happens to me now,” he said, “I’ll be okay just knowing you’re free of him. I want you to forgive me, but I understand if you can’t.”

Clarke closed her hand around the locket and began to cry. “I never thought I’d see this again.” She opened her arms and he scooted over and wrapped his own arms around her, rocking her back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he repeated into her hair.

They finally pulled apart and she wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to ask forgiveness from me, Bellamy,” she said. She stood up and put her hand out to him. “Let’s go to bed and see what tomorrow brings.”

He followed her into the bedroom. “I need a shower,” he said, making his way into the bathroom. When he came back out, a towel around his waist, Clarke had undressed and was lying in bed, waiting for him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the watch Clarke had given him for Christmas. He held it for a long time and she rolled onto her side to see his shoulders shaking with his quiet sobs. She sat up and put her arms around him from behind, holding him close.

“You need to take this back,” he said to her, putting the watch down next to him. “I don’t deserve it. Your father was such a better man than me.”

“Bellamy, don’t say that,” she whispered.

“I’m a monster, Clarke,” he cried. “The things I’ve done? Your dad wanted me to be a better person. He’d be ashamed of me. I’m ashamed of myself.”

Clarke pressed her cheek against his back. “You did those things to protect people you loved. My father...would have done exactly the same thing if he were alive,” she said. “In fact, I think he actually would have killed Cage. So you’re not a monster, Bellamy. You have such a big heart. You need to forgive yourself.”

She felt him nod and relax a little bit in her arms. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied, encouraging him to lay down on his back so she could open his towel and straddle him, press her body close to his and rest her head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “I love you too.”

She moved her hips slowly against him until she could feel his body responding. He had his eyes closed and his hands gently resting on her hips. She raised herself up enough to reach her hand down and guide his cock into her, bringing herself back down on him in one slow, gentle glide. His lips parted and a small moan of pleasure came from deep in his throat. She began to move then, rocking forward and back, taking more of him in with each stroke. Bellamy’s hands moved to the small of her back, maintaining a light pressure without taking control. He was content to let her guide what happened. She made love to him with a slow, comfortable ease that he had never experienced. She was confident in how much he adored her, how much he was devoted to her, and she was proving she felt the same way about him with every breath, every movement. And that night it was her turn to kiss away the tears from his eyes as she took him to the edge of desire and watched as the pieces of his heart slowly reconnected.

They lay in each other’s arms afterwards and she stroked his chest lightly with her fingertips.

“I’m going with you tomorrow, for the questioning,” she said, not allowing for debate. “We’re going to get through this together.”

“Together,” he whispered.


	18. As the Evening Sky Grew Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke attempt to move past Cage's arrest and it's implications as Cage's fate is decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: This chapter contains violence.  
> T/W: This chapter contains conversations about rape.

******************************************************************************************************************

They held hands as they entered the police station. Clarke spotted Miller and waved to him and he approached them with a grim smile. “Hey, guys,” he said, gesturing towards a corridor. “Thanks for coming in. “I’m actually glad you’re here too, Clarke. We need to talk to you as well.” Bellamy and Clarke frowned at one another as they followed Miller.

He escorted them down the hall and into a small, drab room with a long table and four chairs. “Let’s sit in here.” His partner was already seated and gave them a curt nod. “You remember Officer Carey from yesterday,” Miller said, even though he had never introduced them previously. Bellamy and Clarke both nodded at Carey and sat down opposite him. Miller sat down and picked up a file that was sitting on the table.

“Nate,” Clarke spoke first. “Do we...need a lawyer?” Bellamy remained silent.

Miller gave a quick shake of his head. “You’re not being charged with a crime, Bellamy.” He said.

“Yet,” Carey spoke up. Miller frowned at him and continued.

“We just need to follow up. The victim, Cage Wallace, implicated you as the person who broke into his house and beat him.” He opened the file and pulled out a photo, handing it to Bellamy. “You recognize this man?”

Bellamy didn’t touch the photo, just looked at it as it lay on the table. Cage was staring back at him, his face swollen and bloody. “It’s hard to say for sure. He doesn’t look so good,” Bellamy said. “But yeah, it looks like the same man I met at a party a week or two ago.”

“Clarke?” Miller asked, gesturing to the photo. Clarke’s hands were knotted together and she nodded.

“It’s Cage. I’ve known him,” she swallowed hard. “I’ve known him for a while. He and mom are friends. Or, well, business associates I guess.”

Miller nodded. “He mentioned that as well. He said you introduced him to Bellamy at that party. He said Bellamy seemed...jealous. That the two of you already knew each other.”

Clarke scoffed. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”

Carey spoke up. “We’re trying to establish a relationship between the victim and the person he’s accusing, Mrs. Blake.”  
  


“It’s Dr. Griffin-Blake,” Clarke said flatly. “And what Cage implied is ridiculous.”

“Why?” Miller asked. His eyes were full of compassion as he looked at Clarke. “Why would you think it’s ridiculous?”

“Because,” Clarke stammered. “He and I went on one date years ago that my mother set up. But I hadn’t even spoken to him since then, until the gala. We didn’t have any kind of relationship outside of our mutual connection to my mother.”

Miller looked pointedly at Bellamy and sighed. “I need to show you something else we recovered from Cage’s house,” he said. He opened a second file folder and pulled out a photograph, looking at it and biting his lip before he laid it on the table. It was a photograph of the inside of one of Cage’s small storage spaces, the one with Clarke’s clothes and newspaper clippings laid on top.

He let Bellamy and Clarke look at the photo as he spoke softly. “Once law enforcement was inside the house, and made sure Cage was properly taken care of, we started looking for evidence of the motive, fingerprints, anything. What we found was...well, let’s say it opened up a whole new direction of inquiry. It looks like Cage Wallace is a serial rapist...and whoever broke in wanted to make sure we found that out.” He was staring at Bellamy as he spoke, Bellamy stared back without speaking, his jaw clenched.

Miller shifted his gaze to Clarke. “Clarke, this photo was taken inside his house. Can you identify those belongings?”

Clarke put her hand to her mouth and started trembling as she nodded her head. “Those are my clothes,” she whispered. Bellamy put his hand on her leg and continued to stare at Miller.

Carey spoke up. “Once we found this room full of potential evidence, we started pulling old police reports to see if anything matched up. Reported sexual assaults, that sort of thing. Yours was the only one Miller could identify so we started there. And it looks like you reported a sexual assault eight years ago Dr. Griffin-Blake. Can you...tell us more about that?”

Bellamy shifted in his seat and finally spoke. “I thought it was me you wanted to question today,” he said hotly. “Can you leave my wife alone?”  
  


Miller looked at Bellamy sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Bellamy. We need to ask.” He turned his eyes to Clarke. “Were you raped by Cage Wallace, Clarke?”

Clarke reached for Bellamy’s hand and he took it and squeezed it tightly. She leveled her gaze at Miller.

“I don’t know, Nate,” she replied. “I was...” her voice cracked. “I was raped eight years ago. I filed a report,” her eyes were filling with tears. “But I wasn’t able to identify my attacker. And the police weren’t able to recover any evidence.” She sniffed. “So to answer your question, I have no idea if it was Cage or not. But it seems like you’re telling me it was.”

Miller looked over at Carey and then back to Clarke. “We’re fairly certain the evidence is going to bear out. Clarke, it’s pretty likely that Cage was your attacker. And that,” he looked to Bellamy next, “provides you with a powerful motive for breaking in and beating the shit out of him.” He crossed his arms. “Hell, I wouldn’t blame you, Bellamy. If someone hurts your family, you take care of it.” He paused and waited.

“What do you want me to say, Nate?” Bellamy finally replied. “I told you where I was, you saw where I was.” He looked at Carey. “Both of you.”

Miller nodded. “I know. You have an alibi, and if your story checks out, it’s your word against his and honestly, he was so drugged up when we got there, I’m not sure we can even take it as testimony. We haven’t spoken to him yet today, but if he says the same thing, given what we now know about...you, Clarke, I think it’s really going to complicate things.”

Bellamy was shaking his head and Clarke spoke up again. “I just told you _I_ didn’t know it was Cage, so how would Bellamy know that?”

Carey was glaring at Bellamy. “We don’t know. But it seems pretty damn suspicious.”

Bellamy leaned on his elbows on the table. “Well, from what you’re telling us, there was evidence of Cage being a serial rapist. Does that mean you’re going to bring all his victims in for questioning? I’m thinking the man might have more than a few enemies.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Carey snorted. “But you’re the only one he mentioned by name.”

“Okay,” Miller interrupted. “Clarke, you’re saying that you had no idea until today that Cage was potentially your attacker, correct?”

Clarke nodded and Miller continued. “Bellamy, I know you said you were at the bar last night and apparently Raven can corroborate that. But we’ll need a signed statement from her. And I’m afraid I need to ask you to not leave town while we sort this out.” He stood up and Bellamy stood at the same time, putting his hand out to help Clarke up.

“I wouldn’t leave town,” Carey said, remaining seated. Miller rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. Once they were in the corridor, he spoke more frankly.

“Okay, you two, I’ll be honest. This is more than a little problematic. Are you telling me you had no idea that Cage might have attacked you, Clarke?”

Clarke shook her head vigorously. “None.”

Miller turned to Bellamy. “He named you specifically Bellamy. Why? Can you at least give me an idea why he might have done that?”

Bellamy ran his hand through his hair. “I think he’s in love with my wife. I think he’s more than that. I think he’s obsessed with her. And I think he felt like he could get me out of the way and maybe...I don’t know. But I will say one thing. He better serve time for the kind of shit you’re telling me right now. Because otherwise, I can tell you that it will definitely be me paying him a visit.”

Miller nodded slowly. “I ran your phone records from last night. The only tower your cell pinged from is local to your neighborhood. Raven claims you were there with her, she’s got receipts. I believe you Bellamy. But there’s one other loose end.”

“What’s that?” Bellamy asked.

“The pain meds that Cage was on. What he almost overdosed on. We didn’t find any prescription bottles anywhere in the house. The guy drinks a lot, and he’s into some kinky shit on the internet, but no drugs anywhere. So I wonder what we’ll find when we look deeper into where those pills came from.”

Bellamy shrugged, his hand on the bottle in his jacket pocket. “I don’t know. That’s why you’re the detective I guess.”

Miller walked them to the door. “Clarke, I’m sorry, about what happened to you. And I’m sorry we had to bring it up today.”

Clarke gave him a weak smile. “You’re just doing your job. I understand,” she said. Miller shook Bellamy’s hand.

“Thanks for coming in,” he said.

“Sure,” Bellamy replied. “Hope it all gets figured out.”

Bellamy and Clarke drove home in silence. Bellamy kept glancing at Clarke, but she kept her eyes fixed out the window. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, not sure if he believed it.

She nodded. “Unless he doesn’t get charged with anything. If he just gets to leave the hospital,” she stopped talking.

“Clarke, look at me,” Bellamy said. When she finally turned her head he reached over and stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. “Cage Wallace is never coming near you again. I promise.”

******************************************************************************

**Two weeks later**

Bellamy spotted Octavia and Lincoln at the back of the restaurant. He waved and led Clarke to the table as Lincoln stood and shook hands with him. Clarke and Octavia hugged and sat close to each other.

“Date night!” Bellamy grinned. “No kids. Why did you want company for this?” 

Lincoln laughed. “Because we don’t see you guys enough and when we do, Nyx is always monopolizing your attention.”

Clarke smiled across the table at Bellamy. It was true. His little niece was completely smitten with him. Whenever they were at Octavia’s house, Nyx was in Bellamy’s lap or begging him to read her a story or play with her dolls. He always indulged her and Clarke loved him for it. She had begun lately to catch herself day dreaming about a future with a baby at home, watching Bellamy cradle their son or daughter in his arms and tell them stories. It was a future she was beginning to grow more comfortable with, to crave even. Work was busy, but she had been in her position long enough that she no longer felt so much pressure to constantly prove herself with excessively long hours and crazy off hours commitments to conferences and travel. And she knew how much Bellamy wanted a family. He didn’t say it outright, but she caught the way he looked at his little niece, the way his smile widened anytime a baby was around.

He was busy telling Lincoln about his new part time job at the youth center. He was teaching self-defense classes and rock climbing. Clarke hadn’t seen him so relaxed and happy since the night he had confessed to her what had happened with Cage and she felt herself let go of the tension they had both been living with for the past two weeks. Maybe it really would work out okay. She ordered her favorite seafood dish and two bottles of wine for the table and smiled at Bellamy.

“So, how’s school going?” Octavia asked. In addition to his part time job, Bellamy had enrolled for classes to get his associate degree so Clarke had often found him still up and reading or taking notes no matter how late she got home from work. He would smile up at her from the bed, glasses on, hair mussed. He was as serious about being a student as he was about everything else.

They chatted easily as the night wore on, ordering dessert, staying until the waiter began to give them somewhat pleading looks to settle the tab so he could clean up and go home. Clarke was a little tipsy as they left the restaurant and Bellamy took her arm to steady her. She marveled at how she had just come to expect that he was always right where she needed him to be. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, his large hand a strong and steady presence on her shoulder.

“So, anything new with the Cage situation?” Octavia asked delicately. She had offered, insisted even, that she represent Bellamy is he were called in for more questions. But Bellamy had declined, saying it would look particularly suspicious if he hired a lawyer, especially since there had been no further questions and no evidence that anyone had spoken of. Miller let them know that Cage was still insisting it was Bellamy that had broken in, but he also had much bigger problems once all the evidence was pulled together about his past crimes. Several more women had been interviewed and Cage, upon leaving the hospital the day before, had been placed in a jail cell. Miller had pressed the judge to not allow Cage to get out on bail, citing him as a flight risk. Cage’s high-powered lawyers were fighting the judge’s decision to side with the police and an attorney hired by the young woman who had come forward as his most recent victim.

“Nothing new,” Bellamy said. “He’s in jail for now. And I hope it stays that way.”  
“I’m here if you need me, for anything,” Octavia said. “You know that, right?”

He hugged her tightly. “I know, sis. Thank you.” He put his arm back around Clarke. “I’m getting my drunk wife home now.” Clarke slapped him lightly on the chest and giggled. “Let’s do this again soon though. It was great to see you two.”

He had parked a few blocks down from the restaurant so they walked arm in arm towards the car.

“I want a baby,” Clarke blurted out. Bellamy stopped walking.

“What?” he looked at her quizzically.

“More specifically, I want your baby, Bellamy Blake.” She pulled him by his collar down to her lips and gave him a deep kiss. He put his hands inside her jacket and held her there, responding with a deep kiss of his own. He drew away and smiled at her.

“What do you say we go home and get started on that?” he laughed.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed. “Good plan.” They started walking again and Bellamy’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned.

“It’s Miller,” he said. “Hey,” he spoke into the phone. “What’s up?” He stopped walking a second time and Clarke watched as his brow furrowed in concern. Her heart started beating too fast. What if Cage was out? What if there was new evidence against Bellamy. She kept her hands balled into tight fists as he spoke.

“When did it happen?” Bellamy was asking. “Mmm hmmm. Right. Well, thanks for letting us know. Okay, bye.” He hung up. 

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked, waiting while her heart thundered around in her chest.

He took a deep sigh. “Cage Wallace is dead.”

Clarke started trembling, unable to grasp the words he’d just said. “Dead? But...how?” He took her hand and got her the rest of the way to the car.

Once they were on the road, he filled her in. “Apparently, the guard coming on his shift checked the cell and found Cage hanging from a ripped bed sheet.”

“He killed himself?” Clarke muttered. “I just...I can’t believe that.”

“The guard doesn’t believe it either,” Bellamy said. “Cage had a cellmate. The guy was just sitting on the lower bunk, not calling for help or anything. They think he killed him. No one saw anything, or at least, no one is saying anything.”

“Why would someone kill Cage?” Clarke asked, and then stopped, looking at Bellamy who scoffed at that.

“Fate had it in for Cage,” he said. “They put him in a cell with a guy whose sister was raped and committed suicide afterwards. I guess the guy decided Cage could be a surrogate for his sister’s rapist.”

They pulled into their driveway and as soon as they opened the door, Clarke began sobbing. Bellamy sat down with her on the sofa and held her, stroking her hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“It’s really over,” she cried. He nodded against her cheek.

“It is. It really is.”

*****************************************************************************

**One month later**

They were enjoying a lazy Sunday morning, with Clarke not on call and Bellamy having the day off, sipping coffee and reading the paper. Bellamy was reading an article out loud to her, which he loved to do, and Clarke was only half listening, paging through her planner and writing down appointments. He teased her about being so low-tech, and she did keep a calendar on her phone too, but she loved the old habit she’d long had of carrying a small, bound planner with her everywhere. It was tiny reminder of her efforts to maintain order on her often chaotic life.

She was writing down something and then stuck her pen between her lips and paged back to the previous month. She frowned and then flipped through a few more pages. Bellamy kept reading, unaware of her confusion.

“Babe,” she said slowly, interrupting his reading and putting a hand on his leg.

“Yeah?” he put his paper down and looked at her. “What’s up?”

She held her planner up to him and pointed to a date. He looked at it blankly and then back at her and shrugged. “What?”

“I’m late,” she said.

“Late for what?” he asked. “There’s nothing on your calendar.”

“I’m days late,” she said, offering him another clue.

“Clarke, I don’t...” he stopped and his mouth dropped open. “You...you think?”

Clarke was equally speechless for a second. “I mean...I could be.”

Bellamy threw his paper to the side and stood up, running his hands through his hair. Clarke thought he looked upset and she waited, her hands in her lap. When he turned back to her, he was grinning broadly.

“Let’s go get a pregnancy test,” he said, putting his hand out to help her off the sofa.

“What? Right now?” she laughed. “We’re still in pajamas.” Bellamy was already headed down the hallway.

“Get dressed,” he called back to her. She laughed and rose from the sofa, her emotions running wild. Could she actually be pregnant? The thought of it simultaneously excited and terrified her. She sprinted down the hall after him to get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of the pharmacy. They walked in together and headed straight for the aisle with the pregnancy tests. They browsed the selections together, both of them giggling like kids, and finally settling on two different ones. “Just to be sure,” Bellamy said.

The walked up to the counter where the pharmacist appeared to be in a serious conversation with a tall man wearing a hoodie. Their voices grew angrier, the man insisting his prescription had not been filled, the pharmacist insisting it had been. Bellamy felt a tingling of apprehension and nudged Clarke back a few steps from the counter. The pharmacist shook his head in a gesture of final refusal and the man turned abruptly, nearly walking into Bellamy as he did.

“Dax?” Bellamy said. “Hey, man. You okay?”

The young man looked at Bellamy as though he didn’t recognize him for a second. “Sir?” he finally said. He shook his head and pointed to the pharmacist. “That son of a bitch is withholding my meds. I fucking need them.” He put his hands up to his head as though to drown out a loud noise. “I can’t fucking think anymore.”

Bellamy put his hand on Dax’s shoulder. “Hey, how about I call your mom? Do you have your phone with you?” Dax appeared not to hear him but he peered at Bellamy from under his hood.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered. He looked over at Clarke, who was standing behind Bellamy. “You have a life. You’re...fucking whole. I’m...” He stopped suddenly and pivoted towards the door.

Clarke looked at Bellamy with concern and he gestured for her to go ahead and buy the pregnancy tests. She turned to the counter and made her purchase as Bellamy pulled his cell phone out and began scrolling through his contact list. They started walking to the door.

“Who was that?” Clarke asked.

“One of my men,” Bellamy said, still staring at his phone. “I kept contact numbers for next of kin for everyone in my troop. Just in case.” They made it out the door and Clarke stopped and gasped. Bellamy looked up and saw Dax striding towards them with a gun in his hand.

“Dax!” Bellamy shouted. “Don’t do this.”

“I need that fucking prescription,” Dax bellowed. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

Bellamy looked over to Clarke and motioned with his head for her to move. She stepped quickly towards their car as Bellamy held his hands up in front of Dax and kept walking slowly towards him.

“Dax, we should talk, okay? I can help you. I’m sure it’s just a mistake in paperwork. We can get your meds. Just put the gun down, alright?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke hissed. His eyes shifted to her and she gestured pleadingly for him to come towards her. He shook his head quickly and looked back to Dax who was now staring at Clarke.

“She wants to keep me from getting them,” he said quietly.

“No, no she doesn’t,” Bellamy said, his tone more urgent. “Dax, look at me. Hey, look back at me. I’m here to help you. Remember?”

Dax was shaking his head. “No. She wants to just leave me here to rot in this god forsaken place.” He put the gun up to his head and started pacing. “I just want to be whole again. I can’t get anyone to listen to me!” He was yelling now.

“I’m listening to you,” Bellamy said softly. “We both are. Just tell me what you need. Please, Dax.”

“It’s too late,” Dax sighed. He raised the gun and pointed it at Clarke, who froze.

“No!” Bellamy shouted. He jumped in front of the gun as it went off and Clarke screamed. She watched in horror as Bellamy stumbled and fell back onto the pavement, his head striking the concrete. Dax whirled and raised the gun to her, then appeared to panic as he looked down at Bellamy and took off, running through the parking lot and disappearing down the alley behind the pharmacy.

Other people were shouting and making their way towards her, but Clarke felt like she couldn’t hear or see anything but her husband and the bright pool of red that was blooming around his torso.

“Bellamy!” she screamed. She dropped to her knees and put her hand to his face. He was utterly still. “No, no, no,” she muttered. She put her face close to his and listened, her heart in her throat. He was breathing. She turned towards a woman who was standing nearby.

“Call an ambulance!” she shouted. She pulled Bellamy’s jacket open and found the bullet wound on his right side, below the ribcage. “No major organs,” she muttered. “Please, please, please.” She pulled her own jacket off and pressed it to the wound, putting her face close to his, her tears spilling down onto his face.

“Bellamy, you can’t leave me. You can’t,” she cried. She stayed by his side, pressing her jacket to him long after it was soaked in blood, ignoring the wail of sirens, the crowd around her, the gentle hands of the paramedic as he knelt down to help get Bellamy on a stretcher.

“I’m a doctor,” she managed to croak out as they eased the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. She climbed in beside him and took his limp hand, holding it to her face. “Bellamy, don’t die. Don’t you dare die on me,” she wept as the ambulance pulled from the parking lot and sped towards the hospital.


	19. Maybe She'll See Him Once Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke deals with the aftermath of Bellamy's injuries as fate delivers surprising assistance.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

When he opened his eyes he could only see colors, lights. He could hear a siren but it was muffled, like he was sitting underwater while it drove past him. He tried to raise his head. It shouldn’t be this hard, should it? He started to panic, realizing there was a strap across his chest. He opened his mouth and said the one word that came to his mind.

“Clarke.” It came out as a croak, but miraculously, he felt a hand in his, a gentle presence. She was there with him. The light changed and he could make out her face above his, frowning in concern. What was causing her concern? He opened his mouth again and tried to speak but then felt a pain in his side that caused his words to disappear and an anguished gasp escaped his lips instead.

“Bellamy, you’re in an ambulance,” Clarke said. “You were shot.”

He tried to shake his head, but it was strapped to the gurney like his chest was. Wide-eyed, he held Clarke’s hand tighter. “You?”

“I’m okay,” she cried. “I’m okay,” she repeated.

“Good,” he sighed. He relaxed a little, then winced when the pain in his side hit him again. The paramedic was talking to him, asking him if he could feel his feet, his legs. He was tapping on his calf, then his foot. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his eyes on Clarke. She smiled at him, stroking his hair.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Just look at me.”

He wanted to, he wanted to keep looking at her. But he was so tired. He closed his eyes again and drifted back into blackness.

The glaring lights on the ceiling were the next thing he saw. So bright he only slit his eyes open and nearly screamed from the pain shooting through his head. He felt the panic roiling in his chest again, felt a mask cover his face, a nurse telling him to breathe, that the surgeon was here to remove the bullet. He tried to tell the nurse about the pain in his head, but the mask muffled his voice. He lifted his hand, pointed to his head, she nodded like she understood but kept talking to him about the bullet. He gestured again and she shone a small light into his eyes, a look of concern passing over her face. He saw her turn to speak to someone, but then fell back into unconsciousness.

****************************************************************************

Clarke had tried to enter the operating room, feeling the panic and déjà vu of a year and a half ago on the night of the earthquake. Again, she was stopped at the door, again she watched as Bellamy disappeared down the corridor. She slumped into the nearest chair and attempted to reassure herself. He’d been awake, he’d spoken to her, the paramedic was pleased he could feel his extremities. She was mentally stacking up the odds in Bellamy’s favor, wringing her hands, not realizing she was rocking back and forth like a child trying to soothe herself. She heard a shout, her name? She looked up to see Monty sprinting down the hallway towards her. She stood up. Bellamy had only been in the operating room for a few minutes. Surely they weren’t done? She saw the look of concern on his face and felt faint

“Clarke,” he embraced her and helped her back to her chair, kneeling beside her.

“He’s okay? Right? He was talking and...”

Monty held both her hands in his. “We called Abby in, Clarke. The gunshot wasn’t life threatening. But...he hit his head when he fell, correct?”

Clarke nodded and held her breath and waited.

“He indicated a pain in his head. We stabilized him and ran an MRI. He has a brain bleed and there’s swelling. That’s a more immediate concern than the gun shot. Abby’s on her way here. She’s going to take care of him. Okay?”

Clarke looked away from Monty towards the corridor where Bellamy was lying somewhere, waiting to be saved. “Can I see him?” she asked, her voice small and strained.

Monty looked at her sympathetically. “He won’t know you’re there Clarke. He’s not conscious. I think it’s best to let them do what they need to do, okay?”

She started sobbing uncontrollably then. He pulled her into him and let her cry.

“I can’t lose him, Monty,” she wailed. “Not now. Please tell me I won’t lose him.”

“You won’t lose him,” a woman’s voice said. She looked up to see Abby striding towards them. Monty helped her stand up and she ran to her mother and hugged her, sobbing into her chest like she had when she was a little girl.

“Please, mom. I need to know he’ll be okay. That should be me in there. He jumped in front of me and took a bullet meant for me.”

Abby wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I’m going to do everything I can, Clarke. I promise you, okay?” 

Clarke pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

Abby’s eyes welled with tears but she wiped briskly at her eyes and gave Clarke’s shoulder squeeze. “I need to get in and get to work. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.” She continued down the hall and Clarke sat back down. 

“I’m going to find you an empty room to lie down in,” Monty said. “You’ll be okay here for a minute?” She nodded and put her head in her hands as he disappeared down the hall. He returned after several minutes and pulled her gently to her feet, guiding her towards an empty on-call room. She sat on the bed, in a daze, and he handed her a glass of water and a small white pill.

“To help you sleep,” he said. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to sleep. He might need me.” She started to cry again. Monty sat down next to her on the bed.

“Bellamy’s strong, Clarke. He’s got a lot of fight in him. We’ve seen it before.” He put his arm around her. “He has even more to fight for now. And he has the best neurosurgeon in there with him. You know that. Abby is fighting for him, too.”

She sniffed and nodded, as he stood up. “I need to finish my rounds. I left a message on Octavia’s phone so I expect she’ll be here soon. Just try to relax okay?”

Clarke waited until he had gone and stuck her hand into her purse to get her phone. Her fingers touched the small paper bag from the pharmacy and she felt her heart ache. Was it really just a few hours ago that they had been in their living room? Bellamy practically dancing with joy at the idea that she might be pregnant? How could he now be laying in an operating room fighting for his life?

“Please, Bellamy,” she whispered. “Please hang on.”

****************************************************************************

Miraculously, she did manage to doze off. She opened her eyes with momentary confusion about where she was. She was still in her clothes in a hospital bed and the realization hit her. She sat up quickly and saw that Abby was sitting in a chair by her bed.

“Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?” She swung her legs off the bed and stood up.

“You needed the rest,” Abby said. She stood up and hugged Clarke.

“Is Bellamy...”  
“He survived the surgery,” Abby assured her. “We had to relieve the pressure in his skull through drilling a small hole.”

Clarke closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about this, about any of this. She wanted Bellamy beside her, whole and smiling and waiting for their pregnancy test results. Abby was still talking.

“They removed the bullet. That went smoothly. But...”

Clarke steeled herself. “But?”

“I put him in a medically induced coma. For a time. We need to monitor the swelling in his brain. It could take time.”

“How much time?” Clarke asked.

Abby took her hand. “I can’t answer that, honey. I just know that Bellamy is young, he’s strong, and if anyone can recover from this, it’s him.”

Clarke pulled her hand away and wiped at her eyes. “Is he in recovery? Can I see him?”

“Octavia is in there with him right now,” Abby replied. “Can we talk for a minute, you and I?”

Clarke huffed and sat down on the bed and Abby sat next to her.

“I want to apologize, Clarke. I don’t know where to start because there’s too much to apologize for. But let me start with this...I want you to know that I love you. And I know how much you love Bellamy and I love him for what he means to you. I didn’t realize before how much the two of you meant to each other. And I was wrong to try and come between you. Bellamy is a good man and I want to see the two of you have a future together...a long, happy future. And I will fight for his life as if he were my own son. I want you to believe that, Clarke. Please?”

Clarke nodded and reached out her hand. Abby took it and started crying. “Can you forgive me?” she asked. 

“Oh, mom,” Clarke sobbed and hugged her mother close.

“We’re going to get through this,” Abby whispered into her hair.

She was walking down the corridor to see Bellamy when she saw Miller walking from the other direction. He gave her a small nod and they met outside Bellamy’s room. Clarke looked in to see Octavia seated next to the bed and gave her a small wave.

“Clarke,” Miller said, pulling her into an embrace.

“You’re in uniform. I assume this is about the shooting,” she said.

He sighed. “How’s Bellamy?” They both looked toward the door and Clarke bit her lip.

“The gunshot wasn’t life threatening,” she heard Miller sigh in relief. “But he’s in a coma. There’s brain damage from his fall.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Clarke, if you need anything, I’m here. As a friend. You know that?”

She nodded. “I know, Nate. Thank you.”

He hesitated and pulled a photo up on his phone and handed it to her.

“Can you tell me if this is who...” Clarke was already nodding and handed the phone back to him.

“It’s him,” she said flatly. “The man that shot my husband.”

“Dax,” Miller said, taking his phone back. “We served together, under Bellamy. They picked him up at his mother’s house and he’s in custody. We ordered a psych evaluation. Clarke, he was pretty remorseful when they arrested him. I know that doesn’t help, but...”

“It doesn’t, you’re right,” Clarke said. “My husband is lying in there in critical condition. So his remorse doesn’t mean shit to me.”

Miller nodded. “I understand. I can take a statement over the phone if it’s easier for you. We need a description of the incident as completely as you can remember it.”

Clarke looked at Bellamy lying in the bed. “I remember all of it,” she whispered. “Every second.”

“We’re all pulling for him,” Miller said. “Make sure he knows.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Nate. I need to go see him. Call me for a statement.” She turned and walked into the recovery room. Bellamy looked so fragile and pale under the sheet, with his head wrapped in bandaging. Octavia smiled tiredly at her and pulled another chair up for her to sit in.

“Here we are again,” she said softly.

Clarke finally conceded late that night to letting Monty drive her home and shower and get a change of clothes. Lincoln had retrieved her car from the pharmacy parking lot and it was in the driveway. She insisted to Monty that she would drive herself back to the hospital, mainly so she could have some time alone at home.

Once he left, she pulled the pregnancy tests from her purse and stared at them. She didn’t want to do this without him. It wasn’t fair. He should be here to see the result when she saw it. But she needed to know.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting on her bed, staring at both positive tests.

“You’re going to be a father, my love,” she said to the empty room. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

****************************************************************************

Two weeks later, Bellamy’s condition remained unchanged. The swelling was still significant and Abby had insisted on maintaining the drug dosage to keep him in the same state of unconsciousness. She had not given up on him, but Clarke could see in her eyes a look of concern that hadn’t been there in the first few days, or even the first week. Nurses came in and spoke in hopeful tones, but she picked up on their somber moods.

Today, Octavia sat on one side of the bed and Clarke sat on the other. Both women held one of Bellamy’s hands and were massaging his fingers and flexing his wrists. Abby had suggested a sensory therapy while he was in a coma. Clarke had rarely left his side in two weeks, taking leave from work and spending her days reading to him, massaging different muscle groups, playing him music. More often than not, Monty or another nurse would come in and find her sleeping with her head on his chest. She had a cot moved into his room as well so she could be near him if he needed anything in the middle of night. 

Clarke hadn’t shared her secret with anyone yet. She wanted Bellamy to be the first to know about the baby. So as she and Octavia worked with Bellamy’s hands together, she was surprised when Octavia started talking to Bellamy about his niece and nephew and how much he was going to enjoy being a dad himself.

“Why...um,” Clarke stammered.

“I want to remind him why he needs to come back,” Octavia said with confidence. They looked at each other from across the bed where Bellamy lay between them, still and quiet. His heart monitor beeped at a steady pace and it was the only sound in the room for a couple of minutes before Clarke spoke.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Octavia asked.

“For not giving up on him.”

Octavia gave her head a shake. “This guy?” she gestured her chin to Bellamy. “I would never bet against him.”

****************************************************************************

Another two weeks passed. The swelling in his brain had subsided, all his vital signs were good and Abby had taken him off the drugs a week previously. But as the days passed, Bellamy remained in a coma. Clarke refused to leave him, continuing to give him massages, to read to him, to sleep in the room with him. She had barely been home in a month other than to retrieve clean clothes and pull the mail from her mailbox. Her routine operations had been given over to other colleagues.

She had also stubbornly kept her pregnancy a secret. She refused to believe that anyone but Bellamy would be the first person she told about it. She would sit beside him every day, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, willing him to open his eyes. Abby had started to subtly indicate that the more time passed, the more likely it would be that he wouldn’t wake up but Clarke just shook her head and continued to stare at Bellamy as though her thoughts alone would be what could wake him.

So it was dusk, nearly a month after the shooting, and she was laying with her head on his chest, describing the sunset that she could see through the window. She spoke of their picnic at the lake, of their wedding, even of their first meeting. She knew she’d told him all these stories already, but she didn’t want to forget any details and she didn’t want him to either.

“And now,” she was whispering, “we’re going to be parents. Can you believe it, Bellamy? After all we’ve been through together? I know how badly you want to be a father.” She watched his eyes, hoping for some sign he understood. His face remained calm and still.

She started to cry. “If you have to go, it’s alright,” she cried. “You can let go if you need to. I understand and I love you. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” she put her hand on her stomach.

_He was lying with his face down in soft sand but he couldn’t remember clearly how he got there. He tried to raise himself up and cried out from the pain in his arm and collapsed back onto the ground. Then he heard footsteps behind him, felt strong hands lift him, a soothing voice._

_“Jeremy?” It was his father. He opened his eyes and blinked several times. His dad was cradling him in his arms, running back to their house._

_He was trying not to cry, but his arm hurt so bad and he tasted blood in his mouth. His father was looking down at him with concern, carrying him up the steps of their house, laying him gently down in a hammock on their porch._

_He heard the screen door slam, heard his father on the phone, footsteps coming back out to the porch._

_“Jeremy, look at me,” his father said. He turned his head and his father gently nudged his eyelids open wider. “Did you hit your head, son?”_

_He shook his head slowly, taking the cold cloth his father had placed on his bleeding mouth and holding it his lip. It was then he started to cry, not able to hold back anymore. His father was stroking his hair, pressing a second ice pack to his arm._

_“I think your arm is broken, son,” he said calmly. “Can you move your fingers for me?”_

_He tried to flex his fingers and cried out again._

_“Okay, okay. That’s a good boy,” his father said. “We need to go to the hospital. I’m going to go borrow the neighbor’s car okay?”_

_“Ama, don’t go!” he cried._

_“I need to go, but just for a minute,” his dad replied. “Your mother is gone with the car and we need to get to a doctor. You can be brave for me for just a few more minutes, right?”_

_He wiped his tears with his other hand and nodded. His father disappeared from view and he was left alone, holding the cold cloth to his face, squinting as hard as he could to keep tears from coming out._

_When his father came back, he lifted him once again in his arms and carried him to the car that was already running, laying him in the back seat and jumping in to pull out of the dirt driveway._

_“Jeremy, it takes a few minutes to get there,” he said, turning his head slightly so the small boy could hear him from the driver’s seat. “Living near the ocean is great, except when you have to get somewhere in a hurry,” he said, more to himself than to the boy_

_“I’m sorry, ama,” he said in a tiny voice._

_“Sorry? For what?”_

_“For climbing that tree,” he responded. “I wanted the mango.”  
His father laughed. “Asking a four year old not to climb a tree to go after a ripe mango would be like asking the sun not to rise,” he said. “You should not ever apologize for doing what’s in your nature to do.” He turned again and glanced at his son, who was rocking forward and back in pain. “Did you get the mango at least? For your troubles?”_

_He struggled for a minute and produced a somewhat squashed mango from his shorts pocket. His father laughed again. “That’s my iho,” he said._

_They sat for what seemed like an hour in the hospital waiting room, his father continuing to get up and pace, check with the nurse, return to him._

_“It’s a small town we live in Jeremy,” he said. “They need a bigger staff here,” he was patient but seeing his son in pain was taking a toll on his mood._

_“Ama?” he asked. “Do we have to go back home?”_

_His dad looked at him and frowned. “What do you mean? Of course we’ll go home, right after we get your arm looked at it.”_

_The boy shook his head. “I mean. Can me and you just...go somewhere else?”_

_His father frowned again. “Why would you want to do that?”_

_He hung his head. “Because nanay...she doesn’t...” his voice faltered._

_“Doesn’t what, Jeremy?”_

_“She doesn’t love me,” he said. “She hates me.”_

_His father got down on the floor in front of him and put his hands on the little boy’s knees. “She doesn’t hate you, iho. I promise. Okay? Your nanay is...well, she’s in a lot of pain. And it’s pain we can’t see, since it isn’t like a broken arm. But it still hurts. And we have to remember that.”_

_He shook his head. “I don’t care!” he was being petulant. He knew it was the wrong thing to say but he was also in pain and tired of caring about his mother. “I don’t want to go home. Ever. Why can’t it just be you and me?”_

_His father was quiet for a minute. “I understand, Jeremy. I do. But sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to for the ones we love. And sometimes it would be easier to just give up. But don’t give up on her, okay? She needs you. And she’ll be getting the help she needs soon. It’s going to be okay.”_

_“Dalisay?” they both looked up when a nurse entered the waiting room. “Dalisay?” she repeated._

_His dad rose from the floor and put his hand on the boy’s head. “It’s time, son. Wake up. You need to wake up. They’re waiting for you.”_

Clarke was still crying, her head on his chest. “I know I said it’s okay to go, Bellamy. And I mean it. But please, if you can hear me, please wake up? I don’t know how to live without you anymore. I’ll try, but I just...”

She felt a tiny quiver in his fingertips and reached her own hand to his. She felt his fingers tighten around her palm and jerked her head up to look at him. His eyes were open.

“You won’t have to, Clarke. I’m here.”

******************************************************************************

Beni was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking out from his porch at the mango tree. It had grown a good bit over the last 30 years but as he looked at it now, he was struck with a memory so powerful it was as though his younger self had inhabited his body. He felt the urge to run to the sandy ground under the tree and scoop up his small son. He could see his body crumpled there on the ground, could hear his small cries. His arms ached to feel the weight of that little boy, who was now a grown man he wouldn’t recognize.

“Why now?” he whispered to himself. His memories of his family were sporadic and sharp. They often appeared when he least needed to be reminded of the life he’d had and lost. He stepped down from the porch and towards the tree, walking slowly to avoid breaking the hold his memory had on him. The sand was soft and warm beneath his feet. He mused that it was the softness of the sand that had prevented Jeremy’s injury from being worse than it had been, a broken arm and a split lip. He guessed that Jeremy would have a scar from it, although he had disappeared with his mother before that injury had fully healed.

He stopped under the tree and looked up. The mangos weren’t ripe, and he had no desire to climb the branches. He stood, looking up at the deep green leaves, listening the breeze pass through them that sounded like a whisper.

_Why can’t it just be you and me?_ He cocked his head and listened. His son’s voice, but somehow changed. It was gone, but the impact of those words was still constricting his chest when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and lifted his hand in a wave at the tall American walking towards him.

“Doc! You’re looking well,” he smiled.

The man stopped beside him and looked up into the branches of the tree. “Yeah, I hate having to miss the ripe mangos.”

“Miss them? Are you leaving?”

The man nodded. “For a bit. Back to the states. I’ll be back here in a month or two. I guess you’ll be enjoying your retirement by then.” He patted the older man on the back.

“Ah, yes. That.” He was looking forward to finally retiring from his teaching job, but he knew it would also be giving him more time to ruminate on his past, on his regrets. He gave the man a sad smile. “I’ll miss you, my friend. But family is important. You enjoy them and I’ll see you when you come back.”

They shook hands and he watched as the man made his way back up the beach.

“Jeremy, where are you now?” he asked the breeze.

*****************************************************************************

Monty arrived in the room within seconds of Clarke’s pressing the emergency call button, his face a mask of concern. He looked down at Bellamy and back at Clarke, his mouth forming an O.

He grinned broadly and approached Bellamy to take his hand. “Welcome back, Bellamy,” he said.

Bellamy smiled slowly. “It’s good to be back,” he croaked. He hadn’t let go of Clarke’s hand since he’d opened his eyes, leaving her only one hand to wipe at the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks.

“I’ll call Abby,” Monty said after checking Bellamy’s vital signs. He disappeared out the door again.

Clarke waited until they were alone again and then put her face down close to Bellamy’s.

“My mom will be here soon. And your sister will be, too. Can you tell me how much you remember about the day you were shot?”

He frowned at her. “You mean it wasn’t...it wasn’t today?”

“Oh, Bellamy,” she cried. “It was a month ago.” The look on his face told her he couldn’t comprehend what she had just said. That he had been in a coma for an entire month. He just stared at her then finally replied.

“We were at the drug store. We were getting...” he paused. She nodded, prompting him to continue. “We were going to find out if you’re pregnant.” She smiled and nodded again.

He seemed to be struggling with his next question. “Did you?...are we?”

She kissed him gently on the lips. “I did. And we are. I’ve been waiting a month to tell you that.”

“Oh my god, Clarke,” he started to cry. “We’re going to have a baby?” He looked at her expectantly, needing another confirmation of the gift she’d just given him.

“Yes, Bellamy. We’re having a baby.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “I wasn’t there when...”

“Shhh,” she interrupted. “No apologies. You’re here now. That’s what matters. And I kept my promise to myself that you would be the first person to know.”

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I know. I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” she said. “I love you too.”

They were kissing each other when Abby walked in and cleared her throat quietly. Clarke looked up and beamed at her mother. “He’s awake, mom!”

“I can see that,” Abby smiled and walked up to take Bellamy’s hand. “I’m happy to see you, son.”

She started asking him some questions and checking his vital signs and was writing notes as Octavia opened the door and fairly flung herself on top of Bellamy to hug him tightly.

“Hey sis,” he said. “Long time, no see...apparently.”

She laughed and cried. “I knew you’d make it. Damn it, Bellamy. You really scared me though.”

“Sorry,” he said.

Abby was about to leave the room and Clarke stood up. “Mom, before you go, Bellamy and I wanted to share something with you and Octavia.”

She looked to Bellamy and he smiled and nodded.

Abby cocked her head. “Okay. What is it?”

“Well,” Clarke took Bellamy’s hand. “I know we have a small family, even combined. But...” she paused. “It’s about to be just a little bit bigger.”

Octavia let out a squeak. “What? I’m going to be an aunt?” She rose from her chair and fist pumped in the air. “Hell, yes!! Bellamy!”

Clarke released Bellamy’s hand to walk to her mother and wrap her arms around her. “And you’re going to be a grandmother.”

“Clarke,” her mother breathed into her hair. “God, your father would be so proud.” She pulled away and wiped a tear off of her daughter’s cheek. “I’m going to be a better grandmother than I ever was a mother.”

Clarke smiled at her. “I think you’re going to be great.”

The four of them chatted for a few more minutes, but Abby noticed that Bellamy was beginning to tire and suggested that she and Octavia leave so he could rest.

Once they were gone, Clarke sat down and poured Bellamy a glass of water, holding the straw for him. He cleared his throat and studied her for a minute. “My beautiful wife,” he said. “The mother of my child.”

“I’m all that and more, sweetheart,” she smiled.

“Clarke,” he said, his expression more serious. “I had a...I don’t know what it was exactly. A dream? But it was really more like a memory. In fact, I’m sure it was a memory. It was about the time I got this scar,” he gestured to his lip. “I fell out of a mango tree.”

“A mango tree?” Clarke laughed. “There aren’t mango trees anywhere around here.”

“It wasn’t here, Clarke.” Bellamy sighed. “I lived somewhere else. A beach, an island?”

She frowned. “You never told me that.”  
“I...I forgot. I guess. But I remember falling out of this tree. I remember my dad. And Clarke...”

“What is it?”

“I think my name is Jeremy Dalisay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that the chapter count changed. We're so sorry to have to add another chapter so near the end. We really want to do this story justice and deliver what we feel will be an ending everyone will be happy with. So please bear with us just a little bit longer.   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and much as I did. AND they're gonna have a baby!!! 💜  
> Thank you so much for reading and for all the kudos and comments. They make our day!  
> Kris


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